The Fallen
by WesUAH
Summary: Kim Possible appears to fall in battle, and now Ron may be her only hope... or her avenging angel. Now COMPLETE. Part of the Legacy Universe. REVISED on 8 13 05
1. Fall

Author's Note: This story contains spoilers for "So the Drama" (sorry Jawelik! mea culpa, mea maxima culpa...). If you've not seen the movie, then I recommend you give this story a pass, unless you don't mind having the ending spoiled for you.

* * *

_"Well, maybe I don't want to grow up! Not if it means-" - Ron Stoppable, 'So the Drama'_

Part 1: Fall

Chapter I: Setting Sun

It was a small one-bedroom apartment, located in a building that consisted of a great many other apartments just like it, located inside a city that contained a great many buildings that had the same basic purpose, if not the same architect. It wasn't a bad apartment at all: the landlady was quite pleasant, maintenance was quick, and it really reminded her of the attic room she'd had in her parent's house. The primary difference was that her attic room was a four-hour drive away, in another state, and that her apartment also contained it's own kitchen.

Normally this would not have been a problem, but despite her designation as 'the girl who can do anything', Kim Possible had one alliance of nemeses that she was never able to completely overcome: kitchen appliances.

Such was no barrier for Ron Stoppable, though. He had full mastery of the kitchen: pots and pans did obeisance to him, blenders and food processors abandoned all thought of rebellion, and ordinary kitchen knives had the perfect grace of a forged katana imparted to them by his hands. All things food bent to his will.

Which, Kim reflected as the smells of his latest concoction wafted through the apartment, was a good trait to have in a boyfriend. Especially when he owned his own restaurant.

Even though that meant that, occasionally, date nights turned into working sessions of menu taste-testing and assembly. So it was, then, that Kim Possible found herself seated at her dining table going over menu options for the opening. Ron, meanwhile, was five feet away, in front of the stove, tending to some new arcane concoction of his.

He was also thinking out loud.

"So what do you think, KP? Chicken or fish?" he asked as he stirred the gumbo and checked the rice.

"For the opening?" she said, still pouring over the desert options on the menu.

"Yeah."

"Why not do one of each? You know, give people an option?"

"One of each," Ron said thoughtfully. "Yeah, if we do those two... yeah, that'll work."

"Okay," Kim said, making a mark on her paper. "Which two, then?"

"I'm thinking the Chicken Waikiki and the Sesame Halibut."

"The halibut?" Kim said, somewhat surprised. That dish hadn't gone too well, due to a batch of bad sesame seeds. "Why the halibut?"

"Oh, you know," Ron said deadpan, "just for the-"

_"Ron..."_

"Sorry, KP. Couldn't help it," he said sheepishly.

"Right... so why the halibut?"

"Well, the sesame seed issue was a one-shot. Now that I've got a source that wasn't owned by Dr. Dementor…"

They both shuddered at the memory.

"Besides," Ron continued, "I can cook at lot of each at any one time, and since it'll just be me doing the cooking…"

"Ron Stoppable," Kim replied appreciatively, "seems to have learned to how to strategize. Would… would you need any help from me?"

Ron laughed nervously.

"Heh... uh, KP..."

"What? Oh come on, Ron. I can do anything, remember? I even mastered the mixer... mostly..."

"KP, KP, KP..." he said, walking away from the oven and over to her. He seemed serious, even with a 'Kiss the Cook' apron over his clothes. "You have done well with the mixer, this is true... but this goes beyond the mixer mojo.

"What I need to you do," he continued, crossing his arms on the back of her chair, "is to work the floor with your natural charm and grace."

She turned to look at him, crossing her own arms on top of his, and moving her head so their faces were just a few inches apart.

"Charm and grace."

"Well, the beautilicious eyes won't hurt nothin'..."

"Keep talking, Ron," she said with a smile and a raised eyebrow. He looked like he was about to, when a buzzer sounded from the oven. Ron felt a stirring in his pocket.

"Soup's ready," Kim remarked. "And I think Rufus is hungry."

Rufus had finally woken up from his nap and poked his head out of Ron's pocket.

"Uh-huh, uh-huh," he agreed eagerly, tugging on Ron's shirt.

"I don't know, buddy," Ron replied. "I'm not sure if you can handle duck gumbo..."

"After all the Bueno Nacho you've fed him?" Kim replied. "Rufus probably has a cast-iron stomach by now."

"Uh-huh, cast-iron!" Rufus squeaked.

"Rockin', little buddy," Ron said, giving Rufus a high-five with his thumb. "SOUP'S ON!"

* * *

A couple of bowls later, they were both leaning back in their chairs, resting contentedly. Rufus, having again stuffed himself, lay sprawled out on the tabletop. He let out a few burps, one of which flopped him over from his back to his stomach. No soup had been spilled, which was good thing, since Kim and Ron both were wearing light-colored pants.

"That," Kim said with a sigh, "was some good soup."

"Yes," Ron agreed, sounding very pleased, "yes it was. Who's the cook?"

Kim sighed.

"Ron…"

"C'mon… who's the cook?"

"You're the cook," Kim acknowledged with a begrudging sigh. "And if you don't stop asking that, I'll whap you with the wooden spoon."

She reached for the one in the soup pot.

"KP! No!" Ron shouted as he moved to stop her.

"Ron, I _wasn't_ really going to hit you-"

"No no no no, KP… " Ron said, shaking his head. "Don't cha remember what happened the last time you touched one of those?"

"Oh," she said, flushing slightly. "Right."

"Yeah," he said, gently taking her wrist in his hand and moving it away from the pot. "Let's just keep those hands away from the kitchen tools."

"It wasn't _that_ bad."

Rufus stirred from his stuffed sprawl andshot her a dirty look.

"Kim," Ron said flatly. "Rufus was stained blue for a week."

"But he forgave me, right Rufus?" Kim said, scratching Rufus behind the ears.

"Still… no touchy the wooden spoon, KP. It's just not _safe_ for you yet," he said in a whisper, making little o-shapes with his thumbs and forefingers.

"Hah-hah… enough with the kitchen jokes. Can I at least help you clean up, or am I not _safe_ around _brilo_?"

He never got to answer, for at the point the kimmunicator beeped. Almost automatically, Kim pulled it out of her pocket. Ron scooted around to look over her shoulder.

"Go, Wade," she said, sound a bit brusque.

"Got a hit on the site," he started, and then paused at the tone of her voice. "Was I… interrupting something?"

"Nah," Ron answered, "we were just fussin' again."

"Oh, hey Ron," Wade replied. "Kim wanted to help in kitchen?"

"_Wade_," Kim said in annoyance. "Ugh, I'm not _that_ bad, am I?"

"Remember the incident in Bonn, when-"

"Yeah, we remember Bonn," Ron said sharply, moving around behind Kim and resting his hands on her shoulders. "What's the sitch, Wade?"

"Oh, right," Wade said. "This one's from Global Justice. They've tracked a cell of the Panther Group to a warehouse in your city, and they were wondering if you could help take care of it."

The Panther Group was a collection of arms dealers and technology smugglers who specialized in selling the latest in military and civilian hardware to whoever had enough cash at the time. Drakken and Dementor were both listed as clients of the organization, at least before their incarceration, along with several others who made those two look like small time. There had even been an amount of cooperation between Panther and Jack Hench, though it was rumored that there had recently been a falling out, with elements of the Panther Group attempting a takeover of HenchCo.

There were even rumors that, instead of enabling the megalomaniacs, Panther wanted to _join_ the megalomaniacs. They were going "big time", and were thusly a step above anything that Kim and Ron had faced before. Getting involved with such an organization would be risky.

But that didn't matter.

"We'll do it, Wade," Kim said.

"You sure about that, Kim?" Wade asked. "These guys are hardcore, and this won't be a Drakken-plot cakewalk."

"Doesn't matter," Kim said, determination beginning to settle into her voice. "If Panther is daring operating in the States now, then you can bet they're up to something."

"Just tell us where and when, Wade," Ron added. "We'll take care of it."

If anything, he sounded even more serious than Kim was.

"Alright," Wade said, somewhat reluctantly. "I'm sending coordinates and direction to the kimmunicator."

"Please and thank you, Wade," Kim replied.

"Don't thank me yet," Wade replied, sounding very worried. "Listen, you'll need the battle suits in this one. I'm pretty sure they're back in working order from the last mission, but… just be careful, guys."

"You're really worried about this," Ron remarked.

"Let's just say," Wade said with a sigh, resigned to the fact that his warning wouldn't matter, "that the Panther Group doesn't normally resort to kung-fu fighting. Even I can't make something that's invincible."

They were silent for a moment.

"Well, we'd better get ready," Kim said. Wade looked as if he was about to say something else, then he nodded.

"Right. Call me when you get there?"

Kim promised they would, and Wade signed off. When the kimmunicator had grown dark, Kim and Ron remained silent for a time. Then Ron moved his hands off of her shoulders, and wrapped his arms around her.

"You really think we're ready for this, KP?" Ron asked, bringing his chin to rest atop her head.

"I don't know, Ron," Kim replied, sounding, for the first time, completely uncertain. "But if Dr. Director has to call _us_ to handle this, then I don't think we have much of a choice."

"Yeah, I guess so."

"You seemed a bit more eager a few minutes ago, Ron," Kim stated, silently enjoying being held by him.

"I have family in Tel Aviv," Ron said with a sigh. "Panther… hasn't helped with that."

She placed a hand on one of his, and then moved to stand. Even Rufus had recovered from his stupor.

"Well, we'd better get moving, then."

Ron let her go and stood back, giving her room to push away from the table. They stared at each other for a moment.

"I… I guess it's too late for desert, huh?" Kim remarked.

"It'll keep," Ron said. "We can eat the cake when we get back."

"See you outside?"

"I'll be there," he said with a smile. "C'mon buddy."

Rufus jumped from the table into Ron's waiting pocket. With a final look he turned and walked out the door, heading to his own apartment down the hall to change into his battle suit. When the door had shut behind him she leaned against the wall and shuddered.

'_I've just agreed to go head to head against the Panther Group. I must be crazy…_'

* * *

Chapter II: Fading Light

They had parked a mile or so distant from the suspect warehouse and hiked the rest of the way. The warehouse itself was set in a spread-out storage/industrial complex about twenty miles outside of the city. There were fifty to sixty nearly identical buildings in this complex, but the one they wanted was easy to find: it was the only one with armed guards around it.

Kim and Ron took up position atop a roof two hundred yards away from the building. They were observing it through a set of binoculars that connected to the kimmunicator.

"Looks like five guards on the outside," Kim was saying. "Gray camouflage, rifles, and some kind of sunglasses."

"Probably miniaturized night-vision equipment," Wade said. "I'm picking up some EM activity from the glasses, and that would be the only reason to wear sunglasses at 10 P.M."

"What are those tube thingies on the rifles?" Ron wondered.

"Ron, those are grenade launchers," Kim explained.

"Oh."

"Kim," Wade interjected, "I need you to point the kimmunicator at the warehouse and then turn on the sensors. I want to get a good look at what's inside."

Kim put down her binoculars and picked up the kimmunicator, switched it to scan mode, and pointed the top end at the warehouse. She held it there for a minute while Wade ran the sensors.

"Okay, that should be enough," Wade said. "Just let me process this data…"

They watched him work his magic on the computer, his fingers flying across the keyboard.

"Okay, it looks like there's another twenty people in the warehouse, most of them armed. Looks like a bunch of crates, mostly containing explosives, ammunition, a few vehicles, fuel, and… wait a minute…"

He stared at his screen in disbelief, and then hit a few more keys, rerunning the analysis. Then he swore.

Violently.

"Wade Load," Kim said, astonished. "Who taught you to talk like that?"

"Guys, you've got to get out of there," Wade said, sounding panicked. "I'm detecting radiologicals in the warehouse."

"What?" Kim gasped.

"Okay, let's pretend I don't know what that means," Ron said.

"It means," Wade replied through gritted teeth, trying to keep his voice down, " that there is an atomic bomb being stored in that warehouse."

"Yeah, okay, that's not good."

"No duh. Get out there, now, Kim. Let Global Justice handle this one."

Kim just lay there, looking at the warehouse.

"Kim?" Ron asked. "What're you thinking?"

"We can't turn back now," Kim said finally. "If GJ had to call us, then that means that they can't get here in time to do anything about it."

"So we're going in?" Ron asked.

"We can't let that nuke leave here," Kim replied. "Wade, call Global Justice. Get Dr. Director, _in person_, and tell her what we've found and that we're going in."

"Kim-"

"No questions, Wade," she said with finality. "We can't let that nuke get out, and we may never get another shot at it. Just do it, Wade."

Wade nodded and signed off. Kim replaced the kimmunicator in its storage pouch, and then settled back on the roof, just looking at the warehouse. To Ron's eyes, it seemed as if she was… deflating.

He crawled up and lay down next to her, on her right.

"KP? What's the plan?"

"Ron, I… I have a bad feeling about this."

"KP…" he said, concerned. "Do we need to abort?"

She waited for what seemed a long time before answered.

"We can't," she said simply. "We're here, we have to do something about this… but I don't know if we can."

He surprised her by removing the glove from his left hand, and then reaching over and removing her right glove, then slipping his bare hand into hers and squeezing tight. It was a surprise, but the skin contact felt good, and worked to set her mind at ease.

She squeezed back.

"KP," Ron pronounced, looking her in the eyes, "we're in this one together, not matter what. As long as we're together… we can do _anything_."

She nodded, smiled, and released his hand. They replaced their gloves, and left the roof.

"Okay," Ron said when they had reached the ground, "time for stealth mode."

He reached for the wrist control on his suit, but stopped when Kim grabbed him.

"Ron…" she started to say, then stopped, choosing simply to pull him to her and kiss him. He returned the kiss.

"Ron," she said again when they had separated. "I love you. Never forget that, no matter what."

* * *

Two ghosts, able to see but not to be seen, except by each other, moved swiftly and silently towards the warehouse owned by the Panther Group. Occasionally one of the five guards would see a brief flicker of motion through his goggles, but it never lasted long, and they simply discounted the glimpses as the result of nerves.

Each one collapsed unconscious from the time-release knockout gas canister, disguised as an ordinary lip-gloss container, which had been placed on them by the ghosts. Their inert forms were bound, gagged, and dragged away into the shadows, and their lost firearms were removed into the night.

Had any of the guards remained conscious, and had they been beneath the windows on the left side of the building, they would have heard the small pop of compressed air propelling two grapnels. They would have seen the lines attached to the grapnels carry the two ghosts through the air to perches on the windowsills. The windows themselves had been knocked out years ago, so the ghosts were easily able to enter into the warehouse.

They perched on ledges beneath the windows, and surveyed their prey. The first things they noticed were the crates. Hundreds of crates, each one branded with names and titles like "Kalashnikov" and "Semtex". The second thing they noticed were the ten workers, each one with a gun strapped to his back, each one dutifully filling ammunition magazines. Five others patrolled the floor, apparently keeping an eye on the boxes. Four armed guards covered a single box that was set apart from the others.

The ghosts made eye contact, and each understood: that had to be the nuke.

The last man stood in a corner, leaning against the wall and covered in shadows, nothing but a silhouette.

The ghosts could have completed their plan had the age of the building not betrayed them. The ledge beneath the male ghost was old, and gave way beneath him well before they could move. To his credit, Ron avoided crying out as he fell to the ground. Unfortunately, his control was in vain, as the noise of his landing was enough to alert the guards and bring a hail of gunfire upon their position.

The battle suits kept them from being pierced by the bullets, but the stealth systems almost immediately shut down, the suits redirecting power to damage prevention and repair. Suddenly visible, Kim leapt to the floor and dived behind some crates, the hail of fire keeping her away from the enemy.

She looked around, and saw that Ron was only twenty feet away, thankfully unhurt.

"Sorry 'bout that, KP," he called out when he saw her.

"Not your fault," she answered. "Any bright ideas?"

"Besides hiding from the bullets? Nope."

"Ron, there was a catwalk above where I think the shooters are," Kim called out after a moment, a few bullets whizzing past her head. "Can you see it from there?"

He peeked up over the crates, and then quickly pulled his head back down as he drew fire.

"Yeah, and it's right above 'em."

Kim reached into her pack and pulled out a bar of lipstick.

"Think you can hit the supports with the laser?"

He grinned.

"I can try."

She tossed the lipstick to him. He tried to get his head and arm above the crate, but each time he moved more fire came towards him, forcing his head back down and drawing many cries of frustration.

"This would be a lot easier," he yelled, "if they would _stop shooting_ at me! I'm just sayin'!"

He tried again, ducked back down, and then Rufus poked his head out Ron's side pouch.

"Rufus!" Ron yelled. "Get back in there, buddy, it ain't safe for ya."

Rufus ignored him and hopped out of the pouch, then scurried up Ron's shoulder to see what was going on. He saw the catwalk, saw the gunmen… and saw the bullets that he then barely dodged. He ran back down to the floor, and pressed his back to the crates as he caught his breath. Then the brave little mole rat grabbed the lipstick and ran out from behind the crates.

"Rufus!" Ron hissed, "Get back here. Rufus! Get. Back."

The gunmen ignored Rufus as he ran, lipstick held in his mouth, from the crates to the wall. He then scurried up the wall, using whatever hand and foot holds he could find, and the grabbed onto an electrical conduit. He climbed up that until he reached the ceiling, and the hung by his feet, dangling there above the floor.

Rufus took the lipstick out of his mouth, aimed carefully with both hands, and then activated the laser, burning through the catwalk support struts in just a single pass. Two more shots sliced through where the catwalk connected to the walls, and then the metal structure came tumbling down on top of the gunmen.

They stopped firing to dive away from the wreck… then Kim and Ron leapt over the crates, and fell upon the gunmen like a storm. The enemy was split into two groups, one on each side of the catwalk. Their first blows were simultaneous, but Kim immediately leapt over the catwalk to deal with the larger group.

Ron did not hesitate. He did not pause to taunt or pose, he simply attacked, lashing out with fists and feet, each blow sending a weapon flying or a gunman crashing into one of his partners. Then there was only one more foe, and Ron turned to face that one-

-and then he cried out and dived to the side as that foe fired a 20mm grenade from the launcher slung under the barrel of his rifle. He slid across the floor, and saw the grenade impact and explode on one of the crates. The gunman tried to bring his rifle around to fire again, but Ron raised his hand and fired the wrist grapnel, which attached itself to the side of the firearm.

Ron simply pulled the cable and yanked the gun from his opponent's grasp, then leapt up and delivered a knockout blow.

Things had changed since he'd chosen to embrace the legacy of the Mystical Monkey Power.

He turned and saw Kim dispatch her last opponent, and then the room was clear. They shared a "that was it?" look.

"And you were worried," Ron said with a laugh.

"I keep forgetting about Rufus," Kim replied, as the mole rat, having left the ceiling during the melee, scurried up to her and returned the lipstick.

"KP, it's like I always say: never underestimate the Rufus," Ron said.

"Boo-yah!" Rufus squeaked, thrusting his tiny fist into the air.

"Uh, KP…" Ron said, suddenly noticing something. "Where'd that shadow dude go?"

She looked at him, not comprehending.

At that moment, whatever was in the crate that the grenade had hit cooked off. The explosion rocked the warehouse, caught the walls and nearby crates on fire, and spread burning wood throughout the room. The shockwave knocked Kim and Ron to their knees and blew out the lights, plunging the warehouse into a darkness pierced only by the spreading flames.

In the space of a breath, before he could move, Ron Stoppable looked up and saw a shadow descend upon Kim possible. The silhouette of a man drove one of its legs into her side, knocking her over.

"KP!" he yelled as she cried out in pain.

"Ron!" she cried, dogging another blow, and managing to block a second. "Don't worry, I'll handle this guy. Get the bomb!"

More crates were exploding, some spreading burning oil across the floor. The flames would soon, it seemed, consume the warehouse.

The shade continued to advance on Kim, who continued to scurry back on her knees, unable to find a moment where she could draw herself to her feet. All she could do was block and parry.

Then Rufus appeared, and bit into the heel of the shadow. It did not cry out, but reached down and grabbed Rufus, then threw him across the room as if he was little more than a petty annoyance. Kim used the time wisely, and leapt to her feat, launching into a counterattack almost as soon as Rufus had left the shade's hand.

Ron, meanwhile, had followed Kim's instructions and raced towards the crate they knew contained the nuke. He caught Rufus, who had fortuitously been thrown in Ron's general direction, and placed the naked mole rat in his carrying pouch.

"Rock on, Rufus," he said quietly, giving his pet a thumb high-five on the run. "Rock on."

They reached the crate.

"KP!" Ron called. "The crate's nailed shut."

"So find a crowbar!" Kim grunted as she continued to fight the shade. Somehow the man always remained in the flickering shadows, his face and form concealed by darkness.

"Oh, right," Ron said in reply, and looked around, finding one hanging nearby.

Their fight drove Kim and the shade into a side office.

It took a minute, but Ron managed to pry the lid off the crate. He could still hear the sounds of battle from the office, but he wasn't worried: it _was_ Kim Possible, after all. He threw the lid to the floor and looked into the crate. The bomb was no bigger than a suitcase.

In fact, it was a suitcase, but the sensors in his suit confirmed that it was the bomb. He reached in and pulled it out from the crate, discovering in the process that it was a good bit heavier than it looked.

He had already turned away from the crate, bomb in hand, and started for the office to help Kim when he realized that the only sound he could hear was the crackling of the flames.

The battle had grown quiet.

He ran to the door, expecting to see a victorious Kim.

The silhouette stood there, triumphant, the room itself wreathed in flame. Kim Possible, the girl who could do anything, hung limp, held suspended above the floor by the shade's right hand.

It was wrapped around her neck.

"KP!"

Then the flames, which had reached the crates labeled 'Semtex' burned through the wood casing and set off the explosives contained within, and Ron's existence became a bright light and a great noise, followed by the rushing of air and the breaking of glass and the feeling of flight… and then darkness claimed him.

* * *

"Look, over there, on that mound-"

"It's the rat thing. I think he wants us to go over there."

"Dr. Director, this is Rescue One. We've found the mole rat."

Ron began to regain consciousness, and could hear voices, and footsteps approaching him.

'_Where… where am I? What's happened, what's going on?'_

Images came to him. Fighting, and fire, an explosion-

"Dr. Director, it's Stoppable! He's still alive. He- what's that briefcase?"

"Rufus, is that the bomb?"

"Uh-huh."

'_I'm… alive? Kim. Where-'_

"Dr. Director, they recovered the device. I repeat, we have the device."

Two silhouettes. One held the woman he loved in a death grip.

'_Kim! No!'_

His thoughts became voice as his body awoke with his mind.

"Kim!"

It was still night. He saw two men in Global Justice uniforms coming towards him. In the distance, he could see glow of a burning building.

"Kim!"

The agents reached him.

"Mr. Stoppable, are you all right?"

"Where's Kim? Where is she?"

"Mr. Stoppable, please… there's no sign of her. I'm sorry."

"No! Kim! She was in the warehouse, she could still be-"

"I'm sorry. No one's in there alive."

"No! Kim! KIM!"

He got to his feet and ran towards the glow. The agents followed him.

"Mr. Stoppable, wait-"

"You don't want-"

"Kim!"

He wasn't thinking, just running, knowing that she could have survived, he just needed to get to her.

He crested the hill, and saw the building.

It was nothing but fire. He stopped, in utter shock.

The agents caught up to him.

"Mr. Stoppable," the first said. "I'm sorry."

"No…" he whispered, and then tried to bolt towards the inferno. The agents grabbed him, and held him back.

"Kim!" he cried again, as he yelled and struggled. The first agent nodded to the second, who pulled out a small hypodermic needle, and quickly stuck Ron in the neck with it.

"Sorry about this, Mr. Stoppable. But there's nothing more you can do for her."

Numbness spread through his body, and he could only whisper her name one more time before night claimed him.

* * *

Chapter III: Day's End

It couldn't really be called a funeral, as there was no body, but the memorial service for Kim Possible was something to see. The press was not allowed on site, by order of the Drs. Possible. Kim's life had been spent in service to others, expecting no recognition above the understanding that the helped would aid her in getting to where her next mission was. Her death, then, would not be turned into a media circus.

But the dignitaries… many people, indeed many nations, owed Kim a debt of gratitude. Those who could came to pay their respects. Even the President of the United States, and the three Presidents who had served before him, came to the funeral. He delivered a moving tribute to Kim.

The words of the minister, and the words of the President, were a comfort, albeit small, to the Possible family.

They would have been to Ron, had been able to hear them. All he could hear were his own thoughts as he looked at the empty casket; everyone else's words were, to his mind, just so much background noise.

'_She _can't_ be dead.'_

A simple thought, more in his heart than in his head. No elaboration, no grand logical progression, not even rational in its birth and construction. But it was there. He simply could not accept the fact that Kim Possible was dead. Even after the service, and everyone but himself and the Possibles were gone; even after he laid a rose on her grave; even after he and Mr. Dr. Possible embraced in the way that only two men who have lost someone precious to them can; his heart _revolted_ against the notion that she was dead.

'_She _cannot _be dead.'_

He had returned to his apartment the next day, and simply surveyed the many pictures of Kim that he had. Even had he wanted to forget, he couldn't have. Her face was on his nightstand, his wardrobe, and his desk. More than that; there was, in a secret compartment in his sock drawer, a small black velvet-covered box.

The restored naco royalties had been enough to make a down payment on the restaurant and buy one other item.

He feared that he would never get to use it.

Again, his heart revolted.

"She can't be dead," he said, finally able to give voice to the thought. It came out of his mouth like a chant of defiance in the face of a horde.

He sat in down in a chair.

"She can't be dead," he said it again, and again, and again, until he nearly broke down.

"Ron?"

There was a voice at the door. He looked up.

"Hey, Monique."

"Ron… how're you holding up?"

"How does it look?" he said with a grim smile, the tears flowing down his face.

"Like you're going to fall apart," she replied. "Ron, I know it hurts, but you need to let go."

"I know, but I can't."

"Why?"

He looked her in the eye.

"Because I don't believe she's dead."

In saying that, the idea migrated from his heart to his head, and filled them both.

"But GJ-"

"Didn't find a body," he said, drying his tears. "They did find the bodies of some of the guys we fought but didn't find Kim or the shadow dude."

He stood up and walked to a window, simply staring out it at the city outside. Monique was quiet.

"So, what are you gonna do?"

"Maybe she is dead, maybe she ain't," Ron said in reply, "I don't know. But there is someone who does, and that's the guy she fought. If I find him, I find out what happened to Kim."

It took a moment for the implications of that sink in.

"You're going after Panther."

He nodded.

"Alone?"

"If I have to," he replied. "It's the only way I'll ever know for sure."

"You really think Kim's alive?" Monique asked, after a few moments of silence.

"Yes."

"How… how can I help?"

"Keep things on track for the opening," he said with a smile. "Try and make it look like I'm still here, if you can.

"Oh, and let the Drs. P. and my folks know what I'm doing… and don't tell anyone else."

She nodded.

"I hope you're right about this."

"So do I."

* * *

He was one of the few people who knew how to gain access to Global Justice Headquarters whenever he needed to. This particular time, Dr. Director reflected as she watched Ron Stoppable enter the base, would definitely qualify as a 'need to'. She even figured that she knew what he was going to ask.

"Yo, Doctor Director!" he called out as he entered into the control room. "How's it hangin'?"

She smiled. He seemed to be bouncing back well. Even had the mole rat out, sitting on his shoulder.

"Welcome back, Ron," she said in answer. "It's good to see you."

He walked up to her and they shook hands.

"I can't begin to tell you," she said, "how very sorry we all are."

"Thanks, ma'am," he said, "but that's not why I'm here."

"You want to know what I know about the Panther Group."

"Y'all _are_ good," he said with a raised eyebrow. Rufus nodded in agreement.

"Not as good as you might think, Ron," she said as she removed a small disk from a computer. "This disk contains all the information we have on Panther, but I can give you a summary."

"Sure," he said, taking the disk from her.

"Short version: every agent we have sent against Panther has been either captured or killed. We know they supply weapons and technology to the bad guys, but we can never confirm the existence and location of the shipments. We know they operate factories and assembly areas all over Europe and Asia, but we can only find one, and that one we can't get in. It cost the lives of three of our best agents just to identify that something was up at the warehouse here, and then rolling up that operation- well, you know that better than I do, of course."

He didn't answer, just looked at the disk.

"Ron… I hope that helps you."

"It oughta… where is that factory at?"

"A few kilometers outside of Alfeld, Germany. We can arrange travel for you, if you'd like."

"No thanks, Doc. I'm pretty sure I can do better."

The room went quiet.

"Wait," he said, embarrassed. "That didn't come out… what I meant was…"

"We know what you meant," she said with a chuckle. "Get going, Ron. And keep in touch."

"Sure thing, B."

When he'd left the room and was well on his way outside, one of the agents came up to Dr. Director.

"Dr. Director… do you think this is wise, sending him out like that?"

"Not really, Will," she replied. "But so far our investigations have done nothing but get people killed. Maybe the introduction of a random variable, the Ron Factor, is just what this equation needs…"

END PART I


	2. Descent Into Dark Places

_'He (Luke) realized that the battle in Shimrra's bunker had brought him very close to the dark side… But he had no regrets about having skirted that razor's edge, and knew in his heart that he would have walked even closer to the edge to safeguard Jacen or Jaina.' – Star Wars, the New Jedi Order: The Unifying Force_

Part 2: Descent Into Dark Places

Chapter IV: Following a Trail in the Dark

Ron had just returned to his apartment when pulled out the ronnunicator and called up Wade. It had been a gift from Kim from when she had moved away for college, just a way for them to keep in touch, and briefly he considered trying to reach the kimmunicator with it. But he didn't.

He'd already tried that, after he'd woken up from the sedatives. There had been nothing but static.

So he simply called Wade.

"Wade, it's Ron."

"Oh, hey Ron," the young man said. "I've been trying to call you. Where have you been?"

"Global Justice Headquarters," Ron replied. "I've got some information I need you to look at."

"Information on what?" Wade asked, already wary.

"The Panther Group," Ron said with narrowed eyes.

"Ron, I know you think she's still alive, but you can't just-"

"Who told you I think Kim's alive?"

"No one told me, Ron," Wade said, his voice sympathetic. "You kept on muttering about it at the funeral."

_'Oh great,'_ Ron thought._ 'I was saying that stuff out loud…'_

"Oh," was all he said, this time able to keep his brain and his mouth quite separate.

"Going after Panther like that will be dangerous," Wade said, stating the obvious. "If they track us down…"

"Exactly," Ron said, almost cutting Wade off. "Which is why I'm doing this one alone."

"_Excuse_ me?" Wade said in disbelief.

"No 'buts', Wade," Ron replied. "I can't risk you in-"

"No, you are _not_ cutting me out of-"

"-this mission. If they find out where you are-"

Their voices were rising.

"Ron, I am_ not_ just going to sit idle on this one-"

"I'm not losing anymore friends, Wade; this is something I _have_ to do. You don-"

He didn't finish the word.

"She was my friend too! Don't you _dare _tell me that I don't have to do this!" Wade roared.

They fell quiet, each somewhat embarrassed by their outbursts. Wade was the first to break the silence.

"Ron," he began, "I don't know if you're right about Kim or not. If you are… then I want to help you find her. If you're not…" He trailed off, not able to finish, but not having to. They both knew what would happen if Ron was wrong.

If Kim Possible were truly dead, then Ron would take apart the Panther Group piece by piece. If it took him the rest of his days, if his final breath was to be spent in pursuit of that bloody vengeance, then he would ensure that before he died he would see to it that the people who took Kim Possible away from him were completely wiped out. He would destroy their dreams as the leaders of Panther watched, and then he would destroy them.

It was that simple.

"If you're not," he continued, "then I want a piece of that, too. This computer geek," he said, narrowing his eyes fiercely and leaning towards the camera, "is out for blood."

Ron was taken aback for a few seconds.

"Dude," he replied when his mind recovered, "you got _mean_ when you hit puberty."

"Testosterone increase," Wade said as leaned back, noticeably relaxing. "Came with the growth spurt. What do you need?"

Ron looked around for a moment, and then remembered the disk.

"I'm sending you all the stuff GJ has on Panther," he said, inserting the disk into the ronnunicator, "Work the Wade magic, buddy."

"Got it and processing," Wade said after a moment, his fingers already working the keyboard. "What else?"

"I'll need a ride to… Alfeld or something, wherever that is," Ron said as he opened his closet. "Dr. Director said the location of the factory was in that data, so just get me to wherever it is. Oh, how's the battle suit?"

"Well, that's what I was going to call you about," Wade replied, sounding somewhat embarrassed. "It's out of commission for the next month, at least."

"Say what?" Ron asked, having started digging through the pile of used clothes that covered the floor of his closet. He'd also set the ronnunicator down on his bed, so he was now only hearing Wade, and not seeing him.

"Ron, you had a bunch of plastic explosive go off ten feet away from you, _while you were holding a nuclear warhead_," Wade explained. "The thing is totally shredded, and I'm practically going to have to rebuild it."

"Well, then," Ron said, as he cleared the debris from a box, and then lifted it out of the closet. "I guess we're going old school."

He placed the box on his bed and opened it, revealing his old mission suit: black shirt, gray cargo pants, sneakers, gloves, and utility belt. It also had the standard assortment of gadgets, however these were encased in slightly "manlier" facades than Kim's had been. The hair dryer was still there, but his was colored a dark blue, instead of pink. The laser was disguised as a simple ballpoint pen, not lipstick. They had tried equipping him with Kim-style gadgets once, but that had led to awkward questions at airports in five countries.

* * *

It hadn't taken long for Wade to analyze the GJ data, for as Dr. Director had said, there wasn't much there to work with. The easy part had been pinpointing the location of the factory and then arranging transportation. The hard part was the timing, and this was simply a matter of patience: a full week had passed between when they'd called in three outstanding favors to Kim (and swearing the people involved to silence) and when Ron found himself on a Delta flight into Germany, equipped with an international drivers license, an assumed name, and the ticket to pick up a car at the Hertz station in Hanover/Langenhagen International Airport.

It had taken a bit of work, but Ron had managed to convince Wade that where he was needed was right there in his room, working the Wade mojo on the computer. They younger man had grumbled and complained about being left in Middleton, but he recognized the necessity.

The flight across the Atlantic was a long one, and Ron tried to take Wade's advice and get some rest. He simply couldn't: every time he'd fall asleep, he'd start to dream, dreams that took the forms of flames and fighting shadows. It made it very hard to sleep, even on a Dreamliner.

Rufus, however, had no such problems, and spent the whole flight asleep in one of Ron's pockets.

The plane touched down and then taxied to the gate. Ron, despite being somewhat bleary-eyed, reclaimed his carry-on from the overhead bin (it was a backpack containing his mission suit, the ronnunicator, and a few gadgets), and the joined the queue of passengers. The captain was there at the hatch, shaking hands with the passengers. When Ron reached him their eyes met, and a quiet understanding passed between them.

Kim had saved this captain's plane once.

They shook hands, and Ron felt the captain press something into his palm. It was a small slip of paper, which Ron waited to open until he was off the plane and standing anonymous in the human press of the concourse.

_'Go get 'em, kid,'_ was all it said. Ron intended to.

He stuck the paper in one of his pockets and then tapped on the outside of the one in which Rufus had taken up residence. The naked mole rat stuck out his head and stretched, busting loose with a giant yawn.

"Wake up, buddy," Ron said. "We're here."

Rufus left the pocket and scurried up to stand on Ron's shoulder.

"Well," Ron said with a laugh, "at least one of us slept well."

* * *

Getting past customs and security wound up not being a problem (yet another one of the favors called in), and the airport signs were fortunately marked in English as well as German, so getting from the concourse to the Hertz desk wasn't difficult, even if the smells of the foods from the various kiosks threatened to drag him off his course. But every flash of red hair or green eyes, be they in the airport itself or just in his mind, reminded him of why he was there. His heart kept his nose in check.

Ron still didn't allow himself to entertain the thought that Kim might actually be dead. Now, it was more a defense mechanism than anything else; just like Wade, he knew what he would do if her death turned out to be real, and simply did not want to allow his mind to go there. He'd dreamed, too, about that possiblity on the airplane.

So he kept on hoping.

His mental reverie was interrupted when he arrived at the Hertz desk, which was manned by nothing less than a giant behemoth.

_"Guten tag, jungen,"(_1) the giant creature spoke, its voice a deep bass that seemed to vibrate the very floor upon which he stood. He froze, realizing that the behemoth towered over and out-weighed him by a good margin.

Then he noticed other features of the behemoth, and came to realization that it was human… and female.

_"Wer bist du?"_(2) she asked.

"Uh…" was all he could get out. Rufus simply stared straight ahead, shell-shocked.

_"Was? Ich sagte…ach, dumme Amerikaner,"_(3) she said with no small amount of derision, and then switched to English. "Who are you?"

"I am… Robert… Marley," Ron said stiffly, still in shock from the sight of the person manning the desk, which caused him to struggle to remember the alias.

Rufus somehow produced a mole-rat-sized wig of dreadlocks from the ether, and popped it on his head with a cry of "Boo-yah!"

"Who are you?" Ron continued stiffly. It was likely not the best thing he could have said, but it did seem to put the… woman in a good mood, or something akin thereof.

"So you show interest," she said, with utterly incomprehensible look on her face. "I am Brunhilda von Hausenkrausen, the most petite of my sisters, and known to my friends as 'Unibrow'!"(4)

This was a very appropriate nickname for her.

_'I am so very sorry I asked,'_ Ron thought, having regained control of his senses, which meant he still had the good sense not to say that out loud.

"You are here to pick up ein auto, _kleiner Mann_?"(5) she asked.

"Uh… _ja, ein auto_,"(6) he said slowly, remembering some of the German Wade had tried to get him to learn. He had confirmed, then, what he had discovered in Latin class of old: he did not take well to new languages. It was by shear luck that he said the right thing here, and he had no clue what 'kleiner Mann' was supposed to mean.

She entered something into a computer, and then grunted and grabbed a set of keys from the wall rack.

"Your car is in space sixty-five," she continued, her voice still a loud bass. "These are the keys."

She then leaned forward over the counter, attempting a sultry look which would have worked on anyone else's face (except for the other sisters von Hausenkrausen), but on her just looked freaky.

"You look _köstlich, kleiner Mann_.(7) Do you want to brush against my hand as you take your keys?" she said, actually lowering her voice another octave, trying to make it sound alluring, but the words just came out as a very low growl. It was just too much, and Ron and Rufus traded a terrified look.

"Rufus," Ron said at last, "grab the keys, and run."

* * *

Chapter V: Alfeld

Alfeld itself was a city of some 25,000 people, situated on the banks of the river Leine. It was also the origin of the legend that would later become "Snow White and the Seven Dwarves." In the Tom Clancy novel _'Red Storm Rising'_, a Soviet military breakthrough occurs at Alfeld, which leads to the darkest point in that fictional telling of World War III. Ron Stoppable was familiar with some of that, having been briefed by Wade on the history of the town, but none of that mattered to him.

All that mattered, in his mind, was that some five kilometers south of Alfeld, on the banks of the Leine, was a weapons factory operated by the Panther group, the only one confirmed to date, and that Alfeld was one of the few cities in the world that didn't have a Bueno Nacho franchise. The later fact didn't really bother him all that much, as the veal schnitzel turned out to be very good, though Ron and Rufus both decided that they could live without sauerkraut. It was just the principle of the thing: they were about to go into danger, in order to find Kim, without the steadying presence of nacos or chimerritos.

It just didn't seem _right_.

The fact that Ron could even consider such things, even if for a moment, was a sign to him that he was still sane.

Wade had arranged a room in a small hotel on the outer edges of the city. It was late evening when Ron and Rufus finally arrived at the hotel, after having made a pit stop for the aforementioned veal schnitzel. He made a quick status call to Wade, just to let him know that they arrived safely, and all parties agreed that it would be best to go ahead and turn in, and visit the factory in the morning.

Strangely, the dreams did not haunt Ron's sleep.

Neither Ron nor Rufus noticed the oriental man who had shadowed them all the way from Hanover to Alfeld. He had taken position on a roof opposite their hotel, and observed them through a high-powered telescope.

When he was certain that it was Ron Stoppable, he rolled away from the scope and pulled out a cell phone.

"Touma? It's Seiji. Bring the rest in, it looks like her information was right."

* * *

The factory itself was owned and operated by a man named Ehrelin Heinrich, who had arrived in the area five years earlier, purchased an old-and-busted factory, and somehow managed to bring it back into working order and make it profitable. No one was really sure how he did that, since no one in Alfeld seemed to know anyone who actually worked at the factory, and no one local had been employed in refurbishing the factory itself.

It was all quite suspicious, which was what had attracted the attention of Global Justice in the first place. They had determined that several shipments of arms out of Europe had come from somewhere on the river Leine, and the questionable factory outside of Alfeld had been a good place to start looking for the source. Dr. Director had considered it such a promising lead, in fact, that she had assigned Vice Director Daniel Craven, the head of the European branch of Global Justice (known as GJEUR), to run the investigation personally. It was he who had discovered that Heinrich was in fact rather high up on the Panther Group's chain of command, and that the factory was a major assembly and distribution hub for the arms trade, sending it's wares up the Leine to the river Aller, and then onto the river Wesser and the port at Bremerhaven.

None of what he had found was evidence that would stand up in a court of law, given how it had been procured in the first place, and all GJ attempts to raid the factory had ended with a loss of all hands. Dr. Director had begun to suspect that Craven had a mole in his directorate, which was why she neglected to inform him of Ron's presence in Germany. He and Kim had been her private ace in the hole for a long time, and she saw no reason to change that. Besides, Craven had already suspended any further operations against the factory until he could acquire a few tanks, and legal authorization to blast holes into the walls.

* * *

It was two o'clock in the afternoon when Ron finally pulled to a stop, hiding the car behind a small hill a short distance away from the factory. When they exited the vehicle, Rufus jumped out of one of Ron's pockets and kissed the ground, struggling to catch his breath and pantomiming a racing heart.

"Okay, that's just overdoing it," Ron said. "I wasn't going any faster than the speed limit."

"Ron," Wade said through the ronnunicator, "the signs were in _kilometers_ per hour."

"Kilometers, miles, same difference. The point is, we're here… and it's not like I hit the truck. We missed it by a good five inches."

Rufus pretended to faint from the memory.

"Still overdoing it, buddy," Ron said, then turned back to the ronnunicator. "Wade, I think we're in position. I'm going to take a look around."

"Alright, but stay low: the mission suit won't hide you against the grass."

"Got it," Ron replied, and then proceeded to climb to the top of the hill. Not climb, really, so much as walk, since the hill was only ten feet tall, and just barely enough to hid the car from view of the factory.

He reached the top and lay down flat on his stomach, examining the grounds of the factory through a pair of field binoculars. There wasn't much there, just the main factory, the parking lot, a few auxiliary buildings, and the loading pier that led to the Leine. There didn't appear to be any guards, but he did see a couple of windows that he could use to get in.

He described all of that to Wade, who then used the ronnunicator to scan for security cameras or laser traps.

Oddly enough, there were none.

"That's good, right?" Ron asked when Wade told him the results.

"Could be," Wade replied dubiously, "or it could mean that they don't care if anyone gets in."

"Which would mean that getting in is… bad?" Ron said uncertainly.

"It was for the GJ teams. According to the reports, they got in and then didn't come back out."

Ron and Rufus both winced.

"Well, I don't think we have much choice," Ron said, getting serious. "I'm going in."

* * *

With neither guards nor cameras outside, getting to the window proved to be easy. A quick shot with the grappling hook later, and Ron was suspended in the air next to the window, peaking inside. It reminded him a lot of the warehouse from the States.

The men inside were dressed the same way as the ones at the warehouse in the States. None seemed to be armed, aside from a few men roaming the floor, who were armed with submachine guns. The workers themselves were along side a series of assembly lines, putting together everything from assault rifles to ammunition magazines to what looked like detonators for explosives. Others were storing the completed items in crates.

Above the floor, from an office that jutted out from a catwalk, which circumscribed the factory, a man in a dark-tinted lavender shirt observed the floor. He had brown hair, which was thin and messy, and wore brown gloves and small gray-tinted glasses. He had the air of someone important, and Ron guessed that this was Ehrelin Heinrich. That office was also where he needed to go: if the information he was looking for were to be found in the factory, it would be in there.

By accident, he had chosen his window well: there was a two-high and three-wide stack of boxes in front of it, which would help conceal him upon entry. He tested the window first, seeing which way it opened and if it squeaked or not, and then he opened it the whole way and crawled through, managing to land lightly behind the stack of boxes. The muffled thump of his feet hitting the floor was drowned out by the noise of the factory.

Rufus crawled out of Ron's pocket and scampered to the edge of the stack, sticking his head around one of the boxes to see if anyone was coming. He motioned the 'all clear' to Ron, who then crept over to him. Ron gave Rufus a little pat on the head, then stopped, not entirely certain of what to do next. 'Infiltrate the Panther Factory' had seemed like a sufficient plan at the time, but it was turning out to be a bit more complicated than that. He needed to get to that office, but the getting there was becoming the hard part, as there were too many people and too much open space to run through.

He began to scoot backwards towards the other end of the stack, having noticed a set of pipes there that he could send Rufus up, hopefully to either cause a distraction or find another way into the office. He stopped after a moment when he felt himself bump into something. Gulping, he turned over and found himself face to barrel with a MP5.

"Heh. Hi," he said nervously. "We were with the tour group, and my friend here got lost, so-"

"Get up, kid," the guard said brusquely. "Move. Hands above your head."

Ron slowly stood to his feet. He kept his hands well above his head, and let the guard march him out from behind the boxes. Rufus had jumped back into his pocket.

All in all, as he walked out from behind the boxes and onto the main floor of the factory, Ron felt pretty stupid. He mentally kicked himself for having been caught so easily, and the gun barrel that was being jammed into his back and neck didn't help matters. He figured that he would be marched into to the office and then shot.

_'No,'_ he thought. _'I've not come this far just to die… not when I'm this close…'_

He was in the middle of the factory when that thought crossed his mind.

_'If I die here, I'll never see her again.'_

That thought, the knowledge that failure would mean that he would never seen KP again, awoke something in him. Courage, coupled with something shadowy that was born aloft upon dark wings, filled his heart. He would _not_ die here. He would _not_ fail. He _would_ see her again, he _would_ find KP wherever Panther had stowed her, and _no one_ would get in his way. If they did, then they would fall.

The guard pressed the gun into his neck again. With a cry, Ron twisted to his left, using his left hand to knock the gun away and then driving his right foot up in a spinning kick to the guard's chin. The guard spun through the air and crashed into one of the conveyors, the gun flying from his suddenly limp grasp.

All work stopped as the men turned their attention from the guns and bombs to Ron Stoppable, alone in the middle of the factory, the look on his face resembling that of a lion who was surrounded by angry zebras.

In that instant, as the workers began to come towards him, Ron realized that he really could have chosen a better place to lash out. He did the only thing he could do at point, which was to adopt a fighting stance and hope for the best.

Rufus, wisely, stayed hidden in Ron's pocket.

As the workers drew a circle around him, one of them called Ron out.

"Well, well, well," a rather burly looking fellow said derisively. "If it isn't Stoppable, the _sidekick_."

"Do I know you?" Ron asked, turning to look at the challenger. The man's voice sounded familiar.

"Figured you wouldn't remember since the change in uniform. I used to be one of Drakken's henchmen, kid. A lot of us here were: Panther hired us right up after you put the Doc and Shego in the slammer. I'd run afoul of Possible's fist a few times, but I remember _you_ usually wound up huddled in a corner somewhere, practically sucking your thumb."

Some of the other workers guffawed, but Ron did nothing more than glare.

"Speaking of Possible, how's she doing these days? Oh that's right, she's _dead_," the henchman said with a laugh. "You should have seen it here, Stoppable, when the news came: a brief moment of silence, just to remember the old times… and then out came the champagne. Still, it was a pity: she really was hot stuff, 'specially once she grew up, and me and some of the boys figured that if we ever managed to capture her, we'd-"

At that Ron's control broke and he lashed out, but not at the henchman who had been speaking. He struck at the man who had been sneaking up behind him, whose approach the henchman's monologue had been cover for. His first blow was a kick to the stomach, which stopped the worker in his tracks and doubled him over. The second blow was an upward kick to the worker's right hand, which knocked the lead pipe he'd been carrying out of his hand and sent it arcing up into the air. Ron caught the pipe and then delivered a third blow by slamming it into the side of the worker's head. The worker went down and deflated as green slime oozed from the tear in his head.

A synthodrone.

"B-b-b-b-but," the henchman stammered, "You're not supposed to _brain_ us; the good guys don't fight like that. It's those _rules_ that Dr. D. used to go on about."

"First off… don't you _ever_ talk about KP that way again," Ron said quietly, looking over his shoulder. "Secondly, I don't distract as easily as I used to. And thirdly…"

He turned to face the henchman, and there was no mistaking the intent in his eyes.

"Thirdly," he said, in a voice so quiet it was almost a whisper, "after what Panther did to Kim… this time, there are no rules."

The workers wasted no time, and rushed him at once. Ron twirled the pipe in front of him like a short staff, alternately fending off blows and striking his own. He dodged one kick that was aimed to sweep his legs, and then leapt on the attacker, kicking him twice in the head and then vaulting off of his face to aim a flying kick at the former henchman. That blow knocked the henchman out cold and sent him flying into three other workers, tumbling all of them into a giant heap.

Several others who attacked fell away with broken fingers and fractured legs, their punches and kicks having been blocked by the pipe. Ron tripped a worker over, and then used the pipe to parry a blow from another worker, who was wielding a wrench. He delivered a back flip-kick to the worker, knocking the wrench away into the air. Another leap drew him even with the airborne wrench, when he then whacked with the pipe, sending it flying to one of the armed guards, knocking him out cold.

He landed, took a blow to the head, and immediately riposted with the pipe, shattering the bones in the worker's wrist. A series of kicks and blows from the pipe took out several more, but there seemed to be even more workers flooding into the factory. The commotion had drawn the attention of those who worked on the pier and in the outbuildings.

He fought on, and added a wrench to his left hand, and wielded them both as whirling bludgeons. He held his own, but still he began to tire.

* * *

Ehrelin Heinrich had watched the scene below with some amusement. He'd noticed Stoppable enter through the window and had in fact been the one who'd sent over the guard that Ron had bumped into. He'd decided to just sit back and watch the unfolding melee: after the forewarning they'd had of the prior Global Justice raids, having something completely unexpected happen looked like a good way to break the monotony of the assembly line. He'd heard of Ron Stoppable, of course, from the enforcers who'd used to work for Dr. Drakken, but he was glad that the boy had improved.

It made the fight considerably more interesting to watch.

But still, time was money, even in the world of arms smuggling, and Heinrich didn't have all day to watch Stoppable and his workers beat the daylights out of each other. So he got up out of his chair and went to the rack on the wall where he kept his H&K MSG90A1 rifle. The last thing he'd shot with it had been that one Global Justice agent, but he hadn't made a very difficult target.

Ehrelin removed the lens cap from the scope and activated the laser sight.

* * *

They had reached a standoff. Up against a wall, with nowhere to run, was Ron Stoppable, pipe and wrench held at ready. In front of him were the twenty workers who could still move. The rest were unconscious or had enough broken bones that they were rendered immobile.

"You want a piece of this, huh?" Ron said, taunting them. _"You want a piece of this?"_

Then the workers began to snicker and point. Ron looked at them in confusion, and then looked up. He saw Heinrich, perched outside his office, aiming a rifle that had a flickering red thingy attached to the barrel.

Ron looked down, and saw that there was a red dot shining on his chest. He felt an icy hand grab his insides.

His head snapped back up at the sound of the shot. He saw the smoke, and a little bit of the muzzle flash, and he was, in his adrenaline-rushed state, almost able to see the bullet itself as it sped towards him.

Then a shadow passed in front of him, and there was no longer any bullet, just dissipating smoke and the sound of a light landing and skidding feet.

All eyes turned to the sound. A ninja stood there, dressed in black, clearly female, lithe and sinuous. She was bent slightly at the knees and waist, her left hand held close to the ground to aid in her balance, her right clenched in a fist and held up and behind her.

The ninja winked at Ron… and then there was a second ninja, behind Ehrelin, and another at one of the windows, and a fourth and fifth on the catwalk, and a sixth in the rafters. The second ninja felled Ehrelin with a blow to the neck. The girl then stood up straight, her right hand extended out in front of her, still clenched in a fist. She opened her fist, and let the bullet that had been aimed at Ron drop to the ground.

When it hit the floor, the ninja struck. They moved like lightening, and the battle was over almost before it had begun.

In the end, Ron Stoppable and the ninja stood facing each other amongst a field of broken foes.

"Rufus," Ron said to the mole rat, which had finally come out of his pocket and was standing on Ron's shoulder. "I think we've finally come among friends."

"You are correct," the girl ninja said, removing her mask. "Stoppable-san."

"It's been a long time… Yori," Ron said with a grin.

* * *

Yori introduced the five ninja as recent graduates of the Yamanouchi School, where she now served as an instructor. Their names were Sanada Ryo, Date Seiji, Hashiba Touma, Mouri Shin, and Shuu Rei Fuan(8). As they made their way to the office, Yori told him how, after the news of Kim Possible had reached Japan, she believed that he would seek to confront Panther, and had obtained permission from Sensei to take a group of recent graduates and attempt to aid him.

"But how did you find me in the first place?" he asked as the elevator took them to the catwalk. "Wade and I didn't tell anyone where we were going."

"I accosted Dr. Director outside her home," Yori said, sounding embarrassed, "and managed to convince her that I was a friend and wished to help you."

"And she believed you?"

"It helped that several graduates of the Yamanouchi School now work for Global Justice," Yori replied. "It was not hard to convince her that I was serious, and she revealed that you would likely travel to Alfeld. Seiji followed you in from Hanover, and summoned the rest of us last night."

"He did?"

"Yes," Seiji replied with a laugh. "You need to work on your stealth technique, Stoppable-san."

"Right…" was all Ron could say in reply before the elevator stopped and he, Yori, Seiji, and Touma stepped out. Ryo had already arrived at the office, and had apparently tied Ehrelin to a chair, while Shuu and Shin were outside, making sure no one would interrupt. At their approach, Ryo stepped out of the office and greeted them with a bow.

"I have searched the upper level, Yori-sensei," he said respectfully. "All record keeping seems to take place on the computer in the office, but it is currently locked and password protected."

Ron and Yori followed Ryo into the office, while Seiji stood guard outside the door, and Touma patrolled the catwalk. They saw that the office itself was very spare; there was little more there than the computer, a desk, the chair in which the unconscious Ehrelin was bound, the storage mount for the rifle and several extra clips, a few more weapons, and a telephone. There was also a girlie calendar on the wall, but no one paid any attention to it.

"Wake him up," Yori said to Ryo, pointing at Heinrich. Ryo pulled out some smelling salts and held them under his nose; after a moment, the man awoke with a start.

_"Was… was die Hölle?"_(9) he said groggily, then caught sight of Ron and Yori. His focus returned at the sight of the later, and he shot her a leering grin.

_"Ah… eine Japadirne,"_(10) he said, and then turned his eyes to Ron. "Or is she yours, Herr Stoppable, and not just one in general?"

Yori did not rage or yell at the insult, instead she calmly walked over to Heinrich and slapped him hard enough that he fell over, taking the chair with him and landing on it's back. He was laughing.

Ron walked over and put a hand on Yori's shoulder, and then guided her away from Heinrich. He turned and faced the laughing man on the floor, just watched him for a moment, and then put his foot on the horizontal support of the front chair legs, and pressed down. The chair pivoted upright.

"You're Heinrich, right?" Ron asked.

"_Ja_, what is it to you? Clearly not about the Possible _Mädchen_(11), as you seem to have moved-" he stopped his taunt when Ron suddenly got in his face.

"Computer. Password. Tell. _Now_."

_"Gehen Sie zur Hölle,"_(12) Heinrich replied with a smirk.

Ron stood back and glared at Heinrich. As he tried to figure out what to do, he glanced around the office, and spied a large knife lying amongst the weapons that Ryo had found. It had a sharp edge, partially serrated. He saw it, and felt a thought began to take form in his head.

It wasn't a large thought, but the concept was very clear. He needed Heinrich to talk; the information on the computer might lead him to KP. He saw the knife, and the thought whispered to him in dark tones how he could make Heinrich talk. It was the shade with dark wings that had, during the fight on the factory floor, risen up from the part of his heart where he had always feared to go.

It whispered to him, tempted him and showed him the easy scenario… and he turned away from it, pulling out the ronnunicator instead of going for the knife.

"Wade," he said to his friend. "We're in."

"Great work, Ron," Wade replied. "Now we just need to- is that Yori?"

"Huh? Oh yeah," Ron said, blushing slightly. "She brought the badical ninja help."

"Ninja help? How did they find you? My security precautions were tight!"

Yori and Ryo held back laughs.

"Wade, that's not important. Look," Ron said, pointing the ronnunicator's camera at the computer. "Bad guy computer. Can you hack?"

"I can try," Wade said, sending the command to deploy the ronnunicator's access cable. "Just find a USB port and plug me in."

There was one on the front of the case, so Ron plugged the cable in there and set the ronnunicator down on the desk. Heinrich continued to laugh at them.

"Please, you think your friend can get into that system? Global Justice cannot even hack our systems!"

"Well, you've never faced a hack by Wade," Ron said confidently, but only slightly. The dark whisper was still there.

"Ron, he might be right," Wade said after a moment, actually sounding impressed. "They've got some good security on this thing, but there is one more thing I can try."

Ron watch anxiously as Wade's fingers flew over his keyboards again. If this failed, if Wade couldn't hack the system… then he would have to get at the password somehow, and the dark whisper was becoming very insistent, and the knife was close.

Then the younger man cried out in triumph.

"Got it! You'll have to enter the password yourself, but I've got it for you."

Ron leaned over the keyboard. The whisper was gone.

"Tell me."

"The password is 'Unibrow'."

Ron suddenly paused, his prior excitement now replaced by a very awkward memory.

"Wait… _Unibrow_?" he asked, not Wade, but Heinrich.

The man shrugged, as well as he could with his arms tied down, and decided there was no need to lie.

"The nickname of my girlfriend in Hanover. She works for the Hertz office at the airport. A bit _aggressive_," he added with a wolfish expression, "in so many ways, but I like my women aggress-"

"Dude! That's just… no! Sick and wrong! _Sick and wrong_!" Ron cried, waving his hands as if to ward off a bad vision. Heinrich laughed at his discomfort, while Yori made a mental note to ask about it later.

"Brunhilda! Bleah!" Rufus said, sticking out his tongue.

Ron, still shaking his head, entered the password into the computer.

"Okay Wade, we're up."

"Great. Downloading the information now. Anything in particular you want me to look for?"

"Any mention of Kim or what happened back home would be a good start."

Heinrich turned his head and looked at Ron, slowly coming to a full understanding of the younger man's purpose. It amused him greatly.

"So… that is why you are here," he said with a laugh. "You still think she is alive, that you can find her! I am astonished."

He continued to laugh, as Ron turned and stared at him.

"I have just one piece of advice for your, Herr Stoppable," Heinrich said through his laughter. "Turn back, boy. Turn back now, while you still have time. You are descending into the darkest places of this world, trying to find what? Light? Hope? No matter what you find, Herr Stoppable, not matter where you go or who you fight, Kim Possible is forever gone from you. Her fate was sealed the moment she fought Concolor-"

He stopped, realizing he had said too much. Even Ron noticed the slip.

"Wade, did you get that?"

"Yup. Now adding 'Concolor' to the search strings."

"Who's Concolor, Heinrich? That's the guy she fought, right? Who is he?"

He seemed as if he would refuse to answer, but then decided it didn't matter.

"Concolor is the head of Panther. _Du kanst nicht annulieren, was getan worden ist_,"(13) he said in German, and then fell silent, and refused to speak any more.

"Wade, you have everything from the computer?"

"I've got it all. It'll take a while to process, though."

"Right," Ron said, trading a look with Yori. "We're going to head out now. Wait, oh, a half-hour or so, and then tell Global Justice that the factory is all theirs. Send 'em a copy of the data, too."

* * *

Chapter VI: Leaven

The call was somewhat unexpected, if only due to the time of day. Dr. Director would often call the European Headquarters to check on how things were going, but the calls would come like clockwork, at the same time each day. Thusly, when one came through five hours ahead of schedule, it caught everyone by surprise, though fortunately it didn't catch anyone in the bathroom.

Vice Director Daniel Craven, head of the European branch of Global Justice, picked up the phone.

"Betty!" he said cheerfully. "Didn't expect to hear from you so soon. What's up?"

Quickly she told him about Alfeld. The irony of her having to tell him about goings on in his theatre of operations was lost on neither of them.

"So you sent someone in behind our backs," he replied, sounding miffed. "Was that really necessary?"

_"After having lost fifteen men and three of our best infiltration specialists, yes, I'd say it was necessary. You have a mole, Danny."_

"Oh really?"

_"Think about it. Why did this one work?"_

"Maybe you're right… what did they find out?"

_"They sent us a full copy of the database from the factory computer. So far we've found several references to the Legacy Collection, as well as something called the Phoenix Project. Also, we've got shipping information for several loads of arms and technology."_

"I see. What do you want us to do?"

_"Go to the factory, and collect Ehrelin Heinrich and the computer. Also, there are two ships preparing to leave Bremerhaven; according to the data they leave in two days. I want them stopped."_

"If I have a mole…"

_"Compartmentalize."_

"So concise, Betty. That's not like you. All right, I'll deploy two teams to Bremerhaven, and we'll see what's on those ships. I know just who to send to Alfeld, too."

_"Good work, Danny. Sorry I went around you, but I didn't want to take any chances on this one."_

"Eh, no harm done, boss. I suppose it turned out all right in the end."

**

* * *

**

The raid on Bremerhaven was a success, with both ships seized, and several hundred tons of illicit arms impounded. Several records were found, though the crews of the ships had managed to burn most of the ones that related to Panther operations. Dr. Director made sure that copies of those records quietly made their way to Wade.

Alfeld was another story. Two vehicles had been sent, one to collect the Panther minions and the computer, and deliver them to an impromptu sorting facility in Alfeld proper, and another to collect Ehrelin Heinrich, and transport him to the Global Justice HQ in Hameln.

The second vehicle contained a driver and navigator up front in the cab, and two guards in the back with Ehrelin. Only the driver could open the back door and let Ehrelin out, and every precaution had been taken to prevent an escape.

The guards were surprised when they felt the vehicle slow down and pull off the road. They didn't hear the muffled thump of a silenced .45 firing, and figured that the driver just wanted to check a tire or something.

They heard him exit the cab and walk to the back of the truck, and watched as he opened the sliding door.

Of everything that had happened since they'd arrived in Germany, the sight of their driver holding a silenced firearm surprised them the most.

He fired two shots into each of them, and then motioned for Ehrelin to come out. He complied, and the driver removed his restraints.

"Handler says for you to convey his apologies for Bremerhaven. It cannot be helped."

He then handed Ehrelin his gun. The Panther man did not act in the way the double agent had expected.

_"Ja, ich verstehe,"_(14) Ehrelin replied, and then fired twice. The second shot was redundant, but he had found the sound of a silenced round to be very unsatisfying.

It would be two days before the bodies were found. By then, Handler's apologies had already been conveyed.

END PART 2

* * *

Notes:

(1) "Good day, boy." All translations into German were generated using Altavista's Babelfish, and a dose of half-remembered classes from high school.

(2) "Who are you?"

(3) "What? I said… ach, dumb American…"

(4) Brunhilda is the creation of a friend of mine from college. She is 6'5", weighs 330 lbs, and is the most petite of her sisters. She was used as an example of why this person is against arranged marriages.

(5) "You are here to pick up a car, little man?"

(6) "Uh… yes, a car."

(7) "You look delicious, little man." I doubt she was discussing flavor…

(8) I have named the five ninjas from the Yamanouchi School after the five main characters from the anime "Yoroiden Samurai Troopers", which was broadcast here in the states as "Ronin Warriors". Just a little tribute to one of my favorite shows.

(9) "What? What the hell?"

(10) I'll admit, I made this word up. It is a combination and contraction of the words japanisch, meaning Japanese, and Dirne, meaning, well, whore. You can understand, then, why Yori hits him.

(11) Girl.

(12) "Go to hell."

(13) "You cannot undo what has been done."

(14) "Yes, I understand."


	3. Kyrie Eleison

'_Yet neither by wolf, nor by Balrog, nor by Dragon, would Morgoth have achieved his end, but for the treachery of men.' – Of The Fifth Battle: Nirnaeth Arnoediad, 'The Silmarillion'_

Part 3: Kyrie Eleison

Chapter VII: Divergent Paths

They tightened Ehrelin's bonds, and then gagged him, opting to leave him in the office for GJ to pick up. Ryo led Yori and Ron out of the office, with Seiji and Touma falling into place behind them. They walked towards the elevator, but Ron suddenly stopped, and looked back at the office. Yori could see that his face was troubled.

She told the three ninja to go on ahead and collect Shuu and Shin, and then go and bring the cars around to the factory. Ron absently handed Seiji the keys to his rental.

As the three ninja entered the elevator, Ron walked to the edge of the catwalk and leaned on the railing, surveying the damage below. Yori remained behind him, quiet and standing at a distance.

"This Concolor," she began after a moment, "he is the one who killed Possible-san?"

"Fought," Ron corrected, almost absently. "He _fought _Kim. I don't- I _won't_ believe she's dead until I have some kind of proof."

"So Heinrich was correct. You do believe she is alive."

"Yes. And Concolor can tell me where she is."

Yori considered that for a moment.

"Though I was wrong about your motivations, Stoppable-san, it will still be our honor to help you. An even greater honor, now, since we know you still have hope."

Ron didn't respond, he just looked at the factory floor and seemed to sigh. Yori waited another few moments, and then walked up to stand next to him.

"Stoppable-san, what is wrong?"

He was silent for a moment.

"Have you ever considered doing something… then later wished you hadn't even thought of it?"

"I do not understand…"

"Back there, with Heinrich…" he said, then proceeded to tell her what he had considered. "I know I said I don't believe Kim is dead… but I understand that she _might_ be, and even that_ possibility_ is bringing out something dark in me."

"Stoppable-san," Yori said with sudden understanding, "the way of the ninja is to move in shadows, to control and mask our passions. The way of the _warrio_r requires that we must at times unmask and wield our dark sides like a sword, but it is a sword that can just as easily wield us if it is not controlled."

"How do I know how to control it?"

She reached over and placed a hand on his arm.

"That you agonize over having considered such a thing," she replied with a smile, "shows that your heart knows how, even if your mind does not. You have a strong heart, Stoppable-san. When the time comes, it will be enough to see you through. Do not be afraid."

"Yori…" he said with a grateful tone.

"If Possible-san is alive," she reiterated, "then it will be our honor to help you find her."

Ron was about to reply, but then they heard the noise of three cars pulling up outside the factory.

* * *

The ninja of the Yamanouchi School, it seemed, knew how to get around. Two cars, of considerably newer make than his rental, were parked next to Ron's.

"Traveling in style, Yori," he said with a grin.

"While it may be our honor to walk," she replied with her own smile, "feet do not always take us as fast as we need to go."

"Trust me," Ron said dryly, "that much, I do know. So, what's the plan?"

"Return to Alfeld," Yori replied. "There is a secure place where we can meet and plan the next move. Stoppable-san, will you need to return to your hotel?"

"Well, I guess I oughta go back and pay them…"

"Ah, I have missed the American-style jokes," Yori said with a laugh. "Ryo, lead the others back to the safe-house. I will accompany Stoppable-san."

Ryo bowed respectfully, and then the ninja split up into their respective vehicles.

"So," Ron said when the other two cars had started off down the road. "You drive or me drive?"

"It _is_ your rental car, Stoppable-san."

* * *

Yori's knuckles were white, and her hands grasped firmly on whatever handhold they could find, as the car pulled into the lot of Ron's hotel. Rufus lay curled up in a cup holder, twitching in fear and refusing to come out.

"Oh, come on," Ron said to him, "there wasn't even a truck that time."

Rufus just whimpered, and Yori smiled nervously.

"Right…" Ron said. "Well, I'll go and get our stuff and then check out. Y'all wait here."

He got out of the car, leaving the ronnunicator behind, and walked into the hotel.

Fifteen minutes later, Ron left the hotel, having collected his travel bag and paid off the clerk. Immediately upon arrival at the car, he noticed that two things were different. The first was that Rufus had come out of the cup holder and was clearly at ease. The second was that Yori was sitting in the driver's seat.

"Now wait a minute," he said as he loaded the bag into the car trunk. "I thought _I _was driving."

"Ah, Stoppable-san," Yori said reasonably, "it is better that I drive now, since I know the way to the safe-house."

Ron looked at her with a narrowed eye and raised eyebrow.

"You just don't like my driving," he said suspiciously.

"Well, Stoppable-san," Yori said with a nervous chuckle, "you have a, how should I say it, an American-style misunderstanding of the metric system."

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that kilometers per hour are slower than miles per hour, and you're using the wrong scale on the speedometer," Wade said from the ronnunicator. "Get in the car and let her drive."

Ron grumbled and groused as he got into the passenger's seat and buckled in.

"I am sorry to have ganged up on you like that, Stoppable-san," Yori said as she pulled away from the hotel. "But this really is the best plan."

"Eh, no big. KP used to-"

He stopped mid-sentence, the memories temporarily overwhelming him. Wisely, Yori said nothing further, but traded a slightly worried look with Rufus. There was wistfulness, and an almost unfathomable sadness, that was lying beneath those brown eyes.

It was the look of a man who was mourning someone that he could not let go of.

* * *

"_Computer. Password. Tell. _Now."

"_Gehen Sie zur Hölle," Heinrich replied with a smirk._

_Ron stood back and glared at Heinrich. As he tried to figure out what to do, he glanced around the office, and spied a large knife lying amongst the weapons that Ryo had found. It had a sharp edge, partially serrated. He saw it, and felt a thought began to take form in his head._

_It wasn't a large thought, but the concept was very clear. He needed Heinrich to talk; the information on the computer might lead him to KP. He saw the knife, and the thought whispered to him in dark tones how he could make Heinrich talk. It was the shade with dark wings that had, during the fight on the factory floor, risen up from the part of his heart where he had always feared to go._

_He gave in to the thought, embraced the concept, and took the knife._

_For the first time, he saw real fear in Heinrich's eyes._

"_What are you doing, Herr Stoppable?"_

"_Let me tell you the score, big guy," Ron said coldly. "You have information on that computer, information that I need. Now, I can get that password from you the easy way, or I can do it the hard way. It's up to you."_

"_You wouldn't," Heinrich said with a laugh. " I know your type, Herr Stoppable: too_ moral _to resort to such unpleasantries. You won't go-"_

_Heinrich stopped when Ron placed the blunt edge of the knife on his neck, next to the left carotid artery._

"_That is the wrong edge, Herr Stoppable," Heinrich said with a smirk._

"_I'm just giving you a taste," Ron said, his eyes now icy enough to match his voice. "I doubt you want me to flip this knife over. So what's the password?"_

"_You are crazy."_

"_Crazy?" Ron said quietly as he began to walk around Heinrich, using the knife to trace an arc from carotid to carotid. "Maybe I am crazy, or maybe I'm more sane than I've been in a long time. The thing is, if you want to play this the hard way, then that's fine by me. So what's the password?"_

"_You won't get much from me by cutting my throat."_

_Ron moved the knife to even softer parts._

"_What makes you think that's the first cut I was going to make? Tell me the password."_

"_Stoppable-san…"_

"_Not now, Yori," Ron snapped._

"_Wake up, Stoppable-san…"_

"_What?"_

"Wake up, Stoppable-san."

Ron's eyes snapped open, and his body went erect with a start. He could feel his heart racing in his chest, the hot tears on his cheeks, and the leather of the door handle that he was trying to crush. Slowly he pried his fingers off of the handle, and saw the indents that he had left in the material. He stared at his hands as they shook.

'_Where did that come from? I didn't _do _any of that.'_

'_But you thought it,'_ his mind said.

"No…"

"Stoppable-san?"

He turned to face her, and saw the concern on her face.

"Are you alright?"

"I… guess I just dozed off, started dreaming. No… no big."

For a moment, they were silent. Ron studied his hands, and Yori looked on in concern.

"I saw what I'd considered at the warehouse," he said softly, after a time. "Not what did happen, but what could have."

"You were muttering in your sleep, Stoppable-san," Yori said quietly. "What I heard…"

He lowered his head.

"… was not something that the man I know would have done," she finished with a smile. "Again, your heart knows more than your mind does, Stoppable-san."

"Thank you, Yori," he said at last, and with a rueful smile. It was then that he noticed the car was no longer moving.

"Why did we stop?"

"Because we are here," Yori said, directing his attention to the house outside the car.

* * *

It wasn't a large building, just a single story, with five rooms total. What it lacked in total space, though, it more than made up for in absolute economy of design and utilization. Each square foot was optimized, the house made able to hold several individuals in comfortable, though undeniably spartan, circumstances. It also contained a fairly sophisticated communications/interception/scrambling equipment suite, which Wade promptly examined through the ronnunicator and pronounced 'passable'.

The Yamanouchi School, Yori explained to Ron, owned many such houses all over the world. They were places of refuge for the graduates of the school, a place where they could go to during a quest, or just if they needed to get away for a while. The one in Alfeld had proven to be fortuitously located.

It was in that safe-house that they held a council of war, for a war indeed it was, though none of them knew the full extent of their enemy.

"I've been searching through the records from the warehouse," Wade reported. "Sorry, Ron, no references to Kim."

"What about that guy Heinrich mentioned, 'Concolor'?" Ron asked in reply. He didn't comment on the lack of reference to Kim, as there was no comment that needed to be made.

"That's where it gets interesting," Wade said. "The computer recorded a visit that Concolor made to that warehouse, three days after you guys fought in the States. It said that he had acquired the final piece to something called the 'Phoenix Project'."

"What is that, Wade-san?" Yori asked.

"I don't know, the records don't say. All I do know is that it used parts from the 'Legacy Collection'… and that it _worked_."

"The 'Legacy Collection'…" Ron whispered. "You don't think it's…"

"Yup," Wade replied. "_Drakken's_ Legacy."

"How much of it have they found?" Ron asked, now alarmed.

"Haven't figured that out yet," Wade said apologetically, "but I'm afraid that it's a lot."

"What else have you found, Wade-san?" Yori asked. She did not know what they meant by Drakken's Legacy, but decided that her questions could wait until later.

"Just the location of a few dozen other processing plants and half-way houses," Wade said with obvious pride. "It's not comprehensive, but we've got a pretty good summary here of where and how Panther moves arms and people across Europe."

* * *

"_You_ lost_ Heinrich?" _Dr. Director asked, sounding quite shocked.

"Trust me, Betty," Vice-Director Craven replied, "I'm just as ticked about this as you are. Four of my men are missing, including one of my best and most trusted. That's not the worst of my problems: I've had stations go off-line all over Europe for the past five days. We arrive to help, and find that they've been taken apart."

"_Sorry about the men, Danny,"_ she replied. _"At least you got the computer, maybe it'll help you find who's been raiding you."_

"Yeah, but we're supposed to be the ones raiding them. I take it the data upload was successful?"

"_It was. We're going over the data now, and making sure the earlier source was accurate. When does the Bremerhaven operation start?"_

"Ten minutes. I really should get back to the control center."

"_Right. Sorry I snapped at you, Danny: Heinrich wasn't your fault. Good luck with the ships."_

* * *

They had cleared off one of the tables in the main room and had covered it in maps of Europe. Due to the large number of targets that Wade had uncovered, it was decided that they would split up and each cover a specific set, then rendezvous in Paris in two week's time. It was two hours later when Wade called them again.

"Hey guys," he said, "sorry to interrupt, but I've some good news, and I've got some bad news."

"Good news first, Wade," Ron said with a sigh.

"Okay, the good news is, in five minutes Global Justice is going to hit the ships in Bremerhaven. Dr. Director promised to send me the take from the mission, so we can cross that one off the list."

Touma nodded and made the mark; he'd been tasked with hitting those ships first.

"So what's the bad news," Ron said, rubbing his forehead.

"The bad news is that the vehicle that was transporting Ehrelin Heinrich to GJEUR headquarters in Hameln is twenty minutes overdue."

"Uh-oh," Rufus squeaked.

"So that's… bad…" Ron said questioningly.

"Wade-san, has he escaped?" Yori asked quickly.

"Dr. Director didn't say for sure," Wade replied, "but that was the impression I got. Global Justice vehicles don't just _disappear_."

"We should move quickly, Yori-sensei," Ryo said after a moment.

"You all know how to contact me?" Wade asked. They all answered in the affirmative.

"We will make our way to Hanover," Yori said, "and disperse from there. Be honorable, my students."

The five ninja bowed in respect, both to Yori and to Ron.

"Good luck, guys," Ron said. "I really appreciate this."

"It is our honor to aide the legendary Stoppable-san," Touma replied with a smile. "The stories of your battles with Monkey Fist, and of your exploits alongside Kim Possible, were a source of inspiration to all of us."

"Oh," Ron replied, somewhat embarrassed by that, but not in a bad way. "Coolness, uh, Touma-san."

"Come," Yori said with a laugh. "As Ryo-san said, we must move quickly."

* * *

They divided at the airport in Hanover. Shin would make a short hop to Rome, and then to Venice, where he would attempt to infiltrate Panther's personnel conduit. Shuu was to travel to Barcelona, Spain. Touma would travel to Oslo, in Norway; Ron instructed him to beware the meat cakes, admitting of course that he didn't know _why _Touma should beware the meat cakes. Seiji would travel to Calais, in France. Ryo would travel to Durrës, in Albania.

Ron and Yori would travel to Vienna; the records from Alfeld had identified that as Concolor's next destination. Doubtlessly he'd already left, but it was a start.

* * *

Chapter VIII: Fidelity

Shuu had very quickly decided that he liked Spanish food. Easily the largest of the five ninja, he had never been a picky eater, but there were certain brands of food that appealed to him more than others. After just a day in Barcelona, he'd decided that Spanish food fit into the "definitely eat again" category.

Another thing he decided he liked about Spain, as he downed another piece of chicken, were the interesting sights one could see.

Such as, for instance, a German man with thin brown hair and gray tinted glasses.

"Hello, Ehrelin," Shuu whispered. "Let's see where you're going today."

* * *

The mountains outside of Barcelona provided many places of shadows, locations that could easily conceal whatever was contained within, especially at night. It was to one of these places that Ehrelin Heinrich traveled, less than two days after the events in Alfeld. He had made good time; a Global Justice vehicle, especially one with a spare set of license plates, was able to cross borders with a minimum of trouble.

He had found his trip across France quite boring. Not enough explosions.

The sun was setting fast, and Ehrelin found that he had to move quickly to make the rendezvous. At last he crossed a small field of rocks, and then dropped down into a bowl-like depression in the earth.

"_Was die-" _

The bowl, instead of being empty like he'd expected, contained the remains of a Roman-era building, and a fairly elaborate one at that. Several columns and arches were still standing; their lengthening shadows lending a nightmarish air to the locale.

"Do you like it?" came a voice from the shadows, and then Concolor stepped out from behind one of the columns. As was his custom for business, he was clad in a purple jumpsuit with black gloves and boots. A single Colt .45 rested in a holster slung on his right hip. Shadows concealed his face.

"What is it, _mein Herr_?"

"We are not entirely sure," Concolor replied. "Some believe that this was the unofficial homestead of a Roman Centurion, who would use it for entertaining guests outside of the garrison. Of course, it goes without saying that those guests were, generally, Spanish women. Welcome to Barcelona, Ehrelin. Though you have interrupted my vacation with your somewhat hysterical communiqué, so we shall now cease with the chit-chat and you will tell me what this is all about."

"My apologies, _mein Herr_," Ehrelin said fearfully. "The factory at Alfeld was attacked a short time ago. It is now in the hands of Global Justice. They read everything."

"I see. Who attacked you?"

"It was Ron Stoppable, _mein Herr_, and six ninja."

"Mr. Stoppable. I had wondered what the loss of Miss Possible would drive him to, and now I know. Is he a threat to us, Ehrelin?"

"_Ja, mein Herr_. He now has all the information that we had at Alfeld. He knows of the Legacy Collection, and the Phoenix Project."

"As well as the nature of all our shipping and smuggling activities in Europe. Which he has seemingly forwarded to Global Justice, if the raid in Bremerhaven was any indication."

"Handler sends his apologies for that."

"Of course. The sniveling fool decided that it could not be helped, that his position would have been compromised, yes? No need to answer, Ehrelin, that was rhetorical. It does not matter, really, for he continues to suborn GJEUR, and as such is still permitted to live.

"So tell me, Ehrelin. What else does Mr. Stoppable know? Does he know what Phoenix _is_?"

"_Nein, mein Herr_. Just that it exists."

"I see," Concolor said smoothly, and then snapped his fingers. A second figure stepped out of the shadows into the fading light. This one was covered from head to toe in a black one-piece suit; one that was form fitting yet concealed the form. Ehrelin could not tell if it was male or female, just that it was smaller than himself or Concolor, yet held itself in a way that suggested a deceptive power.

"So this is the Phoenix," he whispered.

"Yes," Concolor replied, sounding very pleased. "My own mythological firebird, whose worth in our line of work is already being proved. The GJ station in Vienna fell ever so quickly."

"_Sehr gut, mein Herr."_

"I assume that all you wished to tell me was that the factory has been captured, along with all the information contained inside, and that Mr. Stoppable is involved?"

"There is… one other thing, _mein Herr_."

"Oh?" Concolor said, the neutral tone of his voice indicating far more danger than any shouting ever could have.

"He knows that you are called Concolor, and will be attempting to track that name through the data."

"I see. And however did he discover that name?"

"I fear I let it slip out, _mein Herr_."

"Oh, Ehrelin," Concolor said, making a tsk-tsk sound, "that was _most_ unwise of you."

He struck Ehrelin in the mouth, sending the younger man crashing into one of the ancient columns.

"Are you marked?"

"_Nein_. He did not touch me…"

"So you just mentioned my name during conversation over tea, hmm? Tell me, does he know my other name?"

"_Nein, mein Herr_. Apart from the title of Concolor, he knows nothing."

"That, at least, is in your favor. Very well. Your little slip has put Mr. Stoppable on the trail of me, and while I doubt it will lead to any trouble, as well as relish the thought of breaking a worthy opponent, I do not need to run afoul of him at this time. There is too much at stake."

"Forgive me, _mein Herr_."

"You are forgiven, for now, Ehrelin Heinrich. Just remember that you are on borrowed time."

* * *

Shuu cursed. He'd lost Heinrich somewhere on the outer edges of the city, and then didn't find him again until he spied the man leaving the mountains. He would have liked to know what that little jaunt was about, but would have to content himself with simply tailing Heinrich wherever he went.

* * *

"You wanted to see me, Dr. Director?" Agent Will Du asked as he stepped into Dr. Director's office. He'd been out of action for several weeks, having busted one of his legs during a training exercise. It had already healed, but Dr. Director seemed to be keeping him on a tight leash.

"Will, yes, come in. How soon can you be ready to travel?"

"Where to and for how long, ma'am?"

"We're going to Europe, Will," Dr. Director said. "The situation with Panther is getting out of hand, and I plan to get to the bottom of it."

"What about Vice-Director Craven?"

"Will, the last successful operation GJEUR had was in Bremerhaven. Every other action taken from the Alfeld data has met with disaster. A team ambushed in Prague: no survivors, the bodies found dumped outside the German Embassy. A raid in Sarejevo: only three survivors. As well as whatever it is that's been raiding the GJEUR stations.

"The only _successes_ that anyone has had have been at the sites that Stoppable's team has hit. Which tells me that there is a mole in GJEUR, and that I _don't know who I can trust there._"

"I understand," Will replied. "Will you be needing me for any fieldwork while in Europe?"

Dr. Director shook her head.

"Ma'am, with all due respect. I'm the best agent here. I… I feel like I'm being wasted on paperwork when I can be out there doing some good."

"Will," she said, "you're right. You are the best agent I've got. Which is why I'll need you with me in Hameln. By day, you'll be my administrative aide. The rest of the time… I need someone who I can trust to track down the mole in GJEUR. That someone is you, Will. Can you do that?"

"Yes _ma'am_," he replied, actually sounding excited. Already his mind was going through the challenge of the assignment: low profile, skullduggery, computer hacking, the challenge of assembling all he clues he was likely to find… it gave him chills in anticipation.

"Excellent. We leave in the morning, so you'd best get ready. Dismissed, Agent Du."

He saluted sharply, and then turned and walked out the door, standing far straighter than he had in days. Dr. Director simply shook her head and picked up her phone.

"Bob?" she said after dialing. "It's Betty. I need you to do something for me…"

* * *

_It had, despite the presence of so many dignitaries, actually been a beautiful funeral service, if such a thing can truly be said to exist._

_Ron stood at the edge of the grave, looking down at the fresh dirt that covered the empty casket. He couldn't bring himself to look at the headstone; somehow, it felt like actually reading her name there would be final nail in the coffin of his hope. He did not believe her to be dead, and he didn't need any further reminder that he was likely the only one who thought so._

_Still, as Mr. Possible walked up behind him, he knelt down and laid a single rose on the grave._

"_Ronald."_

"_Mr. Dr. P," Ron replied. Not lightly, but still using the nickname he'd long ago given Kim's father._

"_You were supposed to save her."_

_Ron stood up, and turned to face him. There was anger on the face of James Timothy Possible, anger that simply masked the sorrow that was building inside him. He couldn't lash out at Panther, so he went after the only other person that he could._

"_I know," Ron said softly._

"_She trusted you," Mr. Possible continued, ignoring Ron's answer and getting right in his face. Tears now joined the anger, and he grabbed Ron's shoulders._

_Ron let him talk._

"_She trusted you," he repeated, his voice increasing from a placid anger to an infuriated roar. "She trusted you to be there to pull her out of the fire, and you always were, until it really mattered! You were supposed to protect her - that was your job! So, why is Kimmie… why is my little girl…"_

_He fell to his knees, the screams replaced by sobs. Ron followed him down, until he too was kneeling, there across from Kim's father._

"_Why is my little girl dead, Ronald? She loved you. Why couldn't you save her?"_

Ron awoke, and found himself staring out the window of the hotel. It was morning.

He didn't need to touch his face to feel the tears.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, just as he had to Mr. Possible that day, and then looked out over the city. Vienna really was beautiful, he had to admit, especially in the warm glow of a rising sun. He just hadn't paid much attention to it over the past two days. He'd been too busy tracking down every lead, every rumor, and every hint of large cats in the city.

So far he and Yori had managed to bust three drug rings, five petty thieves, and two prank callers, but aside from a wrecked Global Justice substation, there was no evidence that Concolor had ever been in Vienna. It was as if he'd vanished into the shadows; even Yori was perplexed.

Yori. She'd been a godsend to him, and he knew that his quest would have ended there in Alfeld had she not appeared. Still, and it ashamed him to think it, every time they'd run down a lead, every time they'd gotten into a fight, he couldn't help but wish that it had been KP there instead of her.

He'd been attracted to her at first, which made his current situation even harder. She'd been this exotic girl, beautiful and from an alien and mysterious (to him) culture, and now that he'd thought about it, just enough like Kim to pique his interest. She'd paid attention to him, held him up and supported him during his time at Yamanouchi, laughed at some of his jokes, and simply cared about him. She'd even kissed him, and only after a week!

It had taken Kim _years_ before that time under the mistletoe, and while their relationship had developed even further than he'd ever hoped, he knew that there had been something between him and Yori.

He didn't know if it was there now; but he didn't want it to be there now, and felt as if to even consider it at this point would be a betrayal of Kim's memory. But-

'_Ron, I never thought I'd say this to you before: you're thinking too much!'_

Kim's voice, in memory, came into his head, and he had to smile at it. He wasn't sure she'd been right then, but she was definitely right now.

"Got it, KP," he muttered as he climbed out of bed and went to shower. "I got it."

* * *

He met Yori in the hallway outside their rooms.

"Good morning, Stoppable-san," she said brightly.

"Mornin', Yori," he said with a yawn.

"Where is Rufus-san?"

"Oh, he's asleep in my pocket," Ron said quietly. "Poor guy didn't get enough rest, I guess."

"Nor did you, it seems."

He shrugged.

"Haven't slept well for a while, Yori."

"So I see. Come, Stoppable-san. I have heard tale of an outdoor café near here, and it looks like you could use some breakfast.

* * *

It was a café like many others in Vienna. Tucked in a corner, most of the tables outside, each shielded with a quaint umbrella and possessed of an altogether charming atmosphere. Yori led him to a table on the outer edge of the seating area. Her gi and his mission clothes drew a few quick looks, but the patrons had seen stranger things.

"I dunno about this, Yori," Ron said, looking around.

"You are uncomfortable, Stoppable-san?" Yori said, as she sipped a cup of coffee.

"It… this just feels like a date or somethin', you know?"

Yori set her coffee down, and then stared at it.

"Do you really think me that much of a shrew, Stoppable-san," Yori said quietly, not looking at him, "that I would attempt something like that?"

"What? I…" Ron began, then trailed off, realizing what he'd just said. "Wait, Yori… I didn't mean it like that, I just… I'm sorry."

"Stoppable-san…"

"No, wait. I… don't know what I was saying. I don't even know what I'm _doing_ half the time. Loosing KP… it's like my center's been knocked out of whack, and I don't know how to get it back. I didn't mean to say that you would try something, it's just that…"

"It's just that you are still faithful to her," Yori said quietly, looking at him again.

"Yes," he replied. "And I don't want to even _look_ like I'm not."

"So long as we do not hold hands," she said, "I doubt that will become an issue."

Ron visibly relaxed, and even laughed at himself as he drank his own coffee.

"Yori…"

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry if I ever sound ungrateful."

"Do not worry, Stoppable-san. It is just your American-style talking before your mind catches up with your mouth."

Before Ron could reply, the ronnunicator beeped.

"What's up, Wade? You look tired."

"Time difference, remember? Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that Shuu and Ryo called. Shuu ran into Ehrelin Heinrich in Barcelona, and he's going to try and tail him and see where he goes. Ryo hit one of the warehouses in Durrës, and found the address of a Panther facility there in Vienna. We confirmed it with the Bremerhaven data. You guys interested?"

"Just tell us where, Wade.".

* * *

"Dr. Director!" Vice-Director Craven called out as he watched her disembark from the jet.

"Danny," Dr. Director replied. "I'm sorry for having to drop in on you like this, but…"

"At least it's better than you going behind my back again," he said with a smile. "Who all did you bring?"

"Just my aid, Will Du," she said, pointing to the young man behind her. She did not mention the one hundred Global Justice agents that she had filtering into Hameln by airliner, not the others that she was slowly bringing into the rest of Europe.

"Fine, fine. We need to hurry."

"What's up? Besides the usual."

"I think we know what the Phoenix Project is."

* * *

"This came from Vienna?" Dr. Director asked, watching the security tape.

"Yes. We didn't find it until yesterday."

Dr. Director watched the carnage in silence. The lone figure in black took out the base personnel as if they had been little more than punching bags.

"And you think that's the Phoenix?"

"Almost positive, Betty. The beginning of the attacks coincides with the completion of the Project, according to the Alfeld records."

"Any idea what it could be, then?"

"No clue. Depending on what they got from Drakken's Legacy, it could be anything from a mind control victim to a synthodrone. The interesting part is here, though."

They watched it attack one last technician.

"It left him alive," Dr. Director whispered.

"It left _all _of them alive," Craven pointed out. "In a moment here it'll turn the security cameras off, but if you look closer, every one of our agents are still alive."

"So what happened to them?"

"When we arrived, they'd each been killed. Single shot to the head, .45 caliber."

* * *

The facility in Vienna was a way station for weapons smuggling. No assembly or manufacturing occurred there, but items manufactured in the eastern portion of the continent would pass through on their way to western ports, and vice-versa. Ron and Yori found it easy to penetrate, and the night guards easy to overcome. They couldn't call in follow-up forces, due to the loss of the GJEUR facility in Vienna, but they were able to access and download all the records stored at the facility.

They discovered that Concolor had visited that facility, and had indicated that his next stop was in Prague. For the next week and a half they traveled like that, running from city to city across the length and breadth of continental Europe, always a step behind the mysterious Concolor but always causing havoc and disruption to Panther's operations. Finally, the trail ended, coincidentally, where they had set the rendezvous: Paris, France.

In Hameln, Will Du completed his investigation into the identity of the mole in GJEUR. As he brought word of his findings to Dr. Director, she received confirmation that the arrival of known-loyal agents into Europe was complete.

In Middleton, Wade continued the work of forwarding information back and forth from Ron and the ninjas to Dr. Director. It was he, in fact, who confirmed that the figure in black was the Phoenix, by deducing that the attacks on the Global Justice facilities occurred at the same time as Concolor's visits to the cities in question.

The ninja wrapped up their own investigations, having communicated a wealth of information on Panther's European operation to Wade and Dr. Director. Along the way, they did the same as Ron and Yori, leading Concolor to grow very annoyed with all of them.

Shuu continued to track Ehrelin Heinrich from Barcelona, to Madrid, and then into France. After they had both stopped in Paris, Shuu decided that he liked Spanish food a lot more than he did French food.

And in an office in Hameln, the man known as Handler looked at a report he'd received. Several of his agents had spotted Ron Stoppable in Paris, and had tracked him to a house on the western edge of the city. Concolor's desire to put a stop to their rampage had reached him, and a simple phone call meant that Panther knew how and where to bring that desire to pass.

* * *

Chapter IX: Whom Do You Serve, and Whom Do You Trust?

"_Is this heaven?" he said as he slowly came to. Shego's clothesline had knocked him cold._

_Across the room, Kim Possible moaned. She was all right, mostly._

"_KP! I thought you were down for the count!"_

"_Why couldn't I see that he was a fake?"_

"_Yeah, it doesn't get much faker than synthodrone… eww! You kissed a synthodrone!"_

"_I never kissed him."_

_His heart filled with hope at that. Maybe, just maybe, she hadn't really-_

"…_but I wanted to."_

_His face and heart fell. So, it hadn't been just another nightmare. It'd been real, what he'd seen between them, at least on her part. So much for that._

"_Okay, too much info… So, what's the plan?"_

"_Ron, I… I got nothin'."_

"_That's my line, and what's worse that's quitter talk!"_

_He couldn't believe that Kim was giving up. It just wasn't in her nature, not from what he'd seen. But…things had been different, ever since the prom was announced. He knew she'd talked to Bonnie about something, but-_

_But it didn't click in his head until that moment, which he realized was for the best: now, what he wanted, and what he had to do, were finally one and the same. If it hadn't come this far, he might not have had the courage..._

"_Drakken finally won," she said despondently. "I should have stuck to babysitting."_

"_Okay, KP," he said firmly. "This pity fiesta is _over_. Drakken_ has not won_: he played you, now it's payback time. And… there are guys out there who are better for you than Erik. Guys who are real, for one thing…"_

"_You really think there's a guy out there for me?" she asked desperately._

_It all fit in his head, and he kicked himself for having not seen it before. She needed something more than a friend, and he wanted to be something more than a friend to her. She needed, wanted, desperately wanted, someone who _loved_ her._

_And he did. _

"_Out there… in here…" he said hesitantly, nervously, but his point was made._

"_Oh? Really?" she said, her voice sounding almost as if she liked the idea._

"_Sure, you know, guys like…"_

"_Hi!" said Rufus, as he suddenly popped up from within the ropes._

"_Rufus?"_

"_Rufus? Rufus! You can save us!"_

_Rufus tried to chew through the ropes, but couldn't. Kim sent him to the lipstick in the backpack, and after having tried the real stick, he finally found the laser and cut through the ropes. Kim, now free of the ropes, pulled the disrupter gun from the pack and placed it in her holster._

"_Let's go."_

_She was a different girl from the one who had hung, defeated, from the cactus._

"_I've got your back, KP," Ron said._

"_I know," she said with a smile. "I… I think that elevator will take us to the control room."_

"_Howdja know that?"_

"_Wade showed us the map when we left, remember?"_

"_Oh, yeah."_

"_C'mon, Ron," she said with a laugh. He followed her into the elevator, which they rode towards the president's office._

"_KP," he said as the elevator started moving, "about… back there… what I was trying to say was-"_

"_Ron… I… I know."_

"_Oh. So…"_

"_So let's stop Drakken first," she said, not looking at him. "Then we'll have all the time in the world to figure this out."_

_He smiled._

"_All the time in the world?"_

"_Yup. Ron," she asked, now turning and looking at him, something akin to uncertainty in her eyes. "Was… was it as awkweird as you'd thought?"_

"_You know," he said with a grin, "it really wasn't."_

_She smiled and nodded, and then the elevator reached the top, and they had to go to work. The main communications hub and president's office were on the same level, the hub itself at the other end of the hallway from the elevator. The door was open, and as Kim and Ron made their way to the confrontation with Drakken, they could hear him bragging about how he'd played them all._

_Fury began to rise in Ron's heart. This man had played Kim, _his_ Kim. He'd done so by fighting dirty, by messing with her heart, with the part of her that just wanted to be loved. He'd gotten to her, he'd hurt her, and it angered him._

_He would make them pay for what they'd done to Kim; this he knew even as they stepped into the control room._

_Then they were no longer in the control room, it was six years later, and he was again watching as the shadow held Kim by the throat in the room of fire. No matter how hard he tried, he could not move his feet, couldn't get to her, and couldn't help._

_With agonizing slowness, the shadow brought up it's left hand and placed it on Kim's right shoulder. The shadows arms stiffened, then began to move apart, and her neck twisted in a way that no spine would have allowed-_

"NO!" he yelled as he snapped awake. It was night, still, and cool, but he was covered in sweat.

'_No…I didn't see that. That never happened…'_

They'd arrived in Paris the previous day. It had been late in the afternoon by the time they'd made it to the Yamanouchi safe house, and he and Yori had elected to wait until morning to chase down the lead on Concolor. They were simply too tired.

Now it was two in the morning, and Ron could not sleep. Quickly throwing on some clothes (his mission suit, in this case), he stepped out on the balcony that his room had, and stared out over the sleeping city.

Paris. He remembered having dragged Kim there once, just to get him some hair goop. He wondered if that stylist was still in business, and if his poodle had recovered from the Bueno Nacho incident.

"You cannot sleep either, Stoppable-san?"

He turned and looked up, and saw Yori sitting on the roof above him.

"Something like that."

"Another dream?"

"A nightmare," he said, leaning against the railing.

They each remained there in silence, until Ron finally broke it.

"It started with the day that I finally asked Kim out," he said quietly, Yori having to strain to hear him. "It was when Drakken tried to take over the world using the Diablo toys."

"Yes, I remember that," Yori said. "We were called upon to try and help with the situation in Japan, but even our training was no use against the robots. We knew that you had stopped him, but we had not heard the whole story."

So Ron told her the whole story. He told her about Erik the synthodrone, all the drama surrounding the prom, and how they had finally wound up tied to Mexican-themed props in Bueno Nacho headquarters.

"And then, the dream changed, Yori," he said. "We'd gotten loose, were going after Drakken… and then we were in that warehouse, and Concolor had her by the throat."

He stopped, his voice breaking.

"He had her," he continued after a moment, "and in my dream I saw him break her neck, but I know I didn't see that for real. I'm… just afraid."

* * *

Will Du was uncharacteristically nervous. A man of supreme self-confidence, which occasionally got on the nerves of those around him, there was nothing that he felt he could not do. Nor did he feel that he wasn't up to his current task. It just scared him to death.

He knocked on the office door of Vice Director Daniel Craven.

"Come in."

He opened the door and entered. Craven greeted him with a smile.

"Ah, Agent Du. How can I help you?"

"Sir," Will began, "I need to discuss something with you."

"Of course, come in. What is it? Does Betty have some other criticism of the way I've been running things?" he asked with a laugh.

"Ah, no sir," Will said, as he closed the door behind him. This was the dangerous part. "Sir, I need to inform you that over the past two weeks I have been investigating your division to find the mole."

"Oh really? So that's what Dr. Director brought her little protégé here for. How kind of her. So, how goes the investigation?"

"I know who your mole is, sir."

"Do you, now?" Craven asked, his voice completely neutral.

* * *

Shuu had trailed Heinrich to a warehouse in Paris. He had quickly begun to tire of warehouses, but accepted that they were the logical places for Panther to run their operations from. From what he'd seen, Heinrich had been given temporary control of this branch of the Paris operations. The German man seemed nervous, far more than normal, though Shuu attributed that to probable threats of retribution for his failure at Alfeld.

His attention returned to the present when another man stepped into view. Shuu was on the rooftop, looking in through a small skylight, and as such his field of view was limited, but he could make out that Heinrich was talking to a man, dressed in a purple jumpsuit, whose face was concealed in shadow. His build resembled that of the man Ron had described, the one who had fought Kim Possible.

He pulled out a listening device, and started to turn it on, when he felt a hand tap him on his shoulder.

Dr. Director had sent Wade a copy of the security footage from Vienna, and Wade had disseminated it to the ninja, so Shuu recognized, as he turned his head to look, the black-clad figure as the Phoenix.

* * *

It was six in the evening in Middleton, and Wade had completed the cataloging of the last batch of information from his friends in Europe. The differences in time zone meant that they had only a small window in which they were all awake, so much of the information management had to occur when they were out of contact. Fortunately, the communication equipment the ninja had was similar to his kimmunicator technology, so uploading the data for their later use was simple.

* * *

"What are you afraid of, Stoppable-san?"

"That Heinrich was telling the truth in Alfeld, and that I'll never see Kim again. I know I didn't see Concolor kill her, but that image is in my mind, and I don't know why," he said, as he hugged his arms to himself, and shivered in the cool of the Paris night.

"Tell me about her."

"What?"

"Tell me about her, Stoppable-san," Yori said with a smile. "I only knew her as your friend, and as a skilled fighter. I wish to know what she became to you."

"What for?"

"So long as you remember her, Stoppable-san, as she was in your life, she will never be gone. Memory can keep her by your side until you find her again, and sometimes the best way to recall a story is to tell it to someone else."

"I dunno, Yori," he said dubiously. "It can get boring."

"Ah, Stoppable-san," Yori laughed from the rooftop. "I have nothing better to do."

So he began to tell her.

* * *

"Vice-Director Daniel Craven," Will said formally, "by the authority of Director Doctor Bethany Director, which is granted to her by the Establishment Treaty, and duly delegated to me upon her authority, I am placing you under arrest for high treason against the United States and the Other Founders of Global Justice."

"Excellent work, Agent Du," Craven said with a smile. "I can see why Betty put her trust in you. You do understand, of course, that I have no intention of coming quietly."

"I figured as much."

Will raise his right arm and fired the taser leads. Quicker than he thought possible, Craven batted them out of the air with his left hand, and drew a silenced .45 automatic with his right.

* * *

The window shattered with the impact of his body, and Shuu fell through the air and landed on the warehouse floor. Phoenix followed him down, and he barely rolled away in time to keep its knee from crushing his skull. A quick flip brought him to his feet, just in time to parry a blow to his ribcage.

"Phoenix!" the shadow man cried. Shuu recognized his accent as British.

Heinrich began calling the workers forward, and Shuu recognized a bad situation when he saw one. He also recognized a door.

He blocked another set of blows by grabbing a worker and holding the poor man between him and the Phoenix, then ran for the door, having to crack together the heads of two workers who tried to get in his way. He threw their limp forms behind him, which had the added effect of tripping up the Phoenix, and then knocked the door down with a kick and ran into the darkened alley.

Phoenix was right behind him. He didn't hear Concolor order Heinrich to follow them.

* * *

'Reactive camouflage,' Wade thought as he surveyed the thermal imaging. There were two teams of twelve men in his backyard, which he could not see in daylight. Dr. Director would have told him if there were any Global Justice agents deployed around his house, and the fact that he didn't know who they were told all that he needed to know about their identity.

"Mom, Dad," he called down the stairs. "You guys need to get up here… now!"

* * *

"So after six years, and everything that happened, you still had not asked her to marry you?"

"I was about to," he said defensively. "Even had the ring, and everything. I was just… waiting."

"Waiting for what, Stoppable-san?"

He looked down at his mission clothes, at the safe house, and at the city.

"I was waiting until I had something better to offer her than this," he said quietly. "Until I could offer her a chance at a peaceful life, where we had more than just running off to save the world. That's what I was hopping to do with the restaurant, just to give us… something else. Some plan that turned out to be."

"Peace rarely comes to those who deserve it most, Stoppable-san," Yori said quietly. "Those who deserve it most are the ones who seek out trouble and keep it from disturbing the peace of others. That is what you and Possible-san did, and what you will continue to do. Your reward will be found elsewhere."

* * *

Will Du raised his hands in surrender.

"Smart move, Mr. Du," Craven replied. "I would not mind shooting you right here and now, but I want you to take me to Dr. Director first. I'm certain you've already shared your findings with her?"

"Of course he did, Danny," a voice came from the other side of the door.

Will Du jumped aside as Dr. Director kicked the door open and fired three times from her own silenced pistol. The first round shot Craven's gun from his hand. The second and third destroyed the emergency call button on his desk.

"Well played, Betty," Craven said, folding his hands on the desktop. "It seems you've got me."

She didn't reply. Instead, she fired a fourth shot into his right arm. He looked up at her in surprise and pain.

"Will," she said coldly, "let the record show that Vice-Director Daniel Craven was killed while resisting arrest."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Now, I want you go to my quarters and get in touch with the teams outside. Tell them to run operation Ocelot Blue. Also, close the door behind you. Danny and I are going to have a little chat."

Will nodded and left to carry out the orders. For a long moment, the Director and the traitor stared at each other.

"I trusted you," she said finally. "Your _men_ trusted you."

"Trust is cheap, Betty," he replied. "And you know me, I like to be on the winning side."

"Oh really?"

"Please. You think you have a chance against Panther? They have Drakken's Legacy, Betty. The Doctor may have been a pathetic strategist, but his inventions… what came out of that year that he spent in hiding would have shook the world if only he'd known how to use them properly. Now, they are in the hands of those who do. The plans are already laid, Betty; everything is in motion, and there is nothing you can do to stop it."

* * *

They were engaged in a running battle through the back alleys and side streets of Paris. The Phoenix would catch up with Shuu, they would fight, Shuu would knock it down and then run away again, and then the Phoenix would chase him. Over and over again, for nearly twenty minutes, they ran and fought. Somehow, he knew that he was taking the worst of the damage.

The Phoenix was a fighter unlike any he'd every seen. The creature knew martial arts that he hadn't even heard of, seemed to employ them without conscience, without pity, and to deadly effect. He believed it could kill him with but a single blow. But it hadn't yet.

Why?

He didn't know. All he knew was that it was gaining on him, he was getting tired, and this was as good a place as any to make a stand. He saw a fire escape to his right, and proceeded to break off a portion of the railing to use as an impromptu staff. He spun around and swung it blindly, managing to force Phoenix to duck and abort its initial attack.

The Phoenix flipped away from him, skidded on its feet, and then charged again. They continued to fight, their blows slowly changing from all-out attacks into series of parries and ripostes. A few of the Phoenix's attacks got through, but none of Shuu's did.

He was simply out-classed, both in skill and in the ruthless application of the skill.

A kick to the stomach doubled him over, and he watched as Phoenix leapt into the air and aimed a flying kick at him.

He ducked down and rolled away, letting it fly over him. He then swiftly regained his footing and swung the railing, catching Phoenix in the back and off balance. It cried out and slammed into a wall, then fell to the ground.

With the Phoenix's cry, something clicked in Shuu's mind. He dropped the pole and drew his cell phone as he ran away again.

* * *

"Wade, what's all that racket about?" his mom asked. They'd run up to his room when he called them, and had barely gotten in the door when they heard a crash from downstairs.

"Close the door," he said quickly. "Right now, mom."

"Wade, what's going on?" his father demanded, as his mom shut the door.

"Dad, we've got trouble in the house," he said, pointing to the images from the security cams.

"Who are they?" his dad asked, looking at the images of twelve men with rifles pouring to his living room.

"Panther Enforcers, I think," Wade replied.

"Panther," his mom cried out. "The one's who killed Kim?"

"The same. I think they're after me this time, but…"

He smiled and pressed a button on his computer, activating the McHenry laser grid he'd had installed in the living room. The result wasn't pretty.

"Son," his dad said. "Why is there a laser security system, and cameras, in our living room?"

"Umm," Wade replied with a nervous smile, "because I put them there?"

"And what else have you rewired in my house?"

"Can we talk about this later?"

* * *

They had talked some more, about what Ron had hoped and planned for with the restaurant. It was to be a place to earn a living, and, he admited, to serve a base for fighting evil. Even in hoping for peace, he had always known that bad guys would continue to come out of the woodwork, the Panther Group being a particularly competent and dangerous variation on that theme, and that people like Kim (and himself, as Yori pointed out), would wind up fighting them. Standing up to evil was what good people did, even as they hoped for peace.

"Someday, Yori," he declared, "Kim and I will have a family of our own. I want those kids to have a good world to grow up on, and we'll keep on fighting to make that world."

'_Sometimes you have to fight for the things you love.' _The recorded voice of his grandfather, whom he'd never known, but who had known him, came to his mind. '_When you stop fighting, that's when they tattoo a number on your arm.'_

He went quiet at that memory. It had been well after graduation from high school before his parents showed him the tapes and the photos of his maternal grandfather. He had died when Ron was only six months old, and hadn't had much to leave behind, except for certain bits of wisdom that had carried him through a tough time, and a single picture, showing a look of pure joy on his grandfather's face as he held his newborn grandson, the new life contrasting sharply with the number imprinted the older man's arm.

Yori leapt down from the roof, and she and Ron looked at each other.

"Sometimes," Ron said, "you have to fight for the things, for those, you love."

"Indeed, Stoppable-san. And your friends will always be here, to help you fight. So will Possible-san, for she is forever in your heart."

"Thank you, Yori," he said gratefully, and he meant it. The fear was gone, and there was maybe a little bit more hope in him than there had been before. Talking, as Yori said, was good for remembering things. And memory of missing loves can be good therapy for a hurting soul.

Yori folded her hands and bowed, then stood up when she heard the ronnunicator beeping. They traded a look and rushed inside.

"Wade?" Ron asked as he activated the device.

"_Ron-san, Yori-san,"_ came a static-filled transmission. _"This… Shuu. Don't… can hear… jamming."_

"Shuu-san," Yori asked. "Where are you?"

"_I'm… Paris. Tracked… rich here from… ain. Listen,… olor and… enix are here! The Phoenix… chasing me. It's…" _What he tried to say was cut off as the transmission dissolved into a ever louder static.

"Shuu, repeat that," Ron cried. "The Phoenix is what?"

"_The Phoenix is here!"_ Shuu cried, the static clearing for a moment, and then returning. _"…nearly on top of me, but you need… now… Phoenix… impossible!"_

Then there was a cry, and the sound of a great many blows being delivered, and then a smooth male voice, and a muffled pop.

"Shuu-san! Shuu-san!" Yori cried into the ronnunicator, but there would be no reply.

Ron reached over and placed a hand on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Yori."

"He was my student," she whispered, and let a few tears fall.

"I'm sorry. Can we track him?"

"What?"

"Can we track him," Ron asked. "He's here in Paris, so if we can find him, then maybe…"

"Yes, yes there is a tracking chip embedded in his boots," she replied, calming herself. "I believe Wade-san can locate the signal."

"Right," Ron said, and then tried to call Wade using the ronnunicator. There was no response.

* * *

"So what do you plan to do, Betty?" Craven asked as Dr. Director finished tying him to his desk chair. She had actually bandaged his wound, though she'd left the bullet in, for now.

"I'm going to ask you some questions, and then you're going to answer."

"Oh, really? How do you plan to ask, hmm? Politely, with tea and crumpets? Do you plan to _torture_ me, Betty? Come now, I know how long I can resist that, and I'm pretty sure that's more time than you have, and more time than your conscience will allow."

Silently, she pulled from her utility belt a vial of a clear chemical, and a single syringe.

"Sodium pentathol?" he said with a laugh. "I've had the inoculations against that, just the same as you."

"Tell me, Danny," she said as she shook the chemical, causing it to glow yellow. "Have you ever heard of truth ray?"

"One of Drakken's inventions, it shut down the inhibitors in the brain that allowed lying and deception. I read Possible's report."

"This is it in chemical form. Acts faster, lasts longer, and skips the druggy side effects of standard truth serum."

"Please. You couldn't even back-engineer the original ray from the examination of Miss Possible and Mr. Stoppable, much less reduce it into chemical form."

"Dr. Drakken could," she said, drawing a dose of the chemical into the syringe, and then clearing air from the needle. "Really, Danny. You don't think Panther is the only group who've found pieces of Drakken's Legacy, do you?"

Before he could answer, she had approached him and injected the chemical into one of his veins.

"That'll kick in here in a minute or two," she said, sitting down opposite him. "So, lets begin. How badly does Panther have GJEUR infiltrated?"

He could have lied outright, of course, but he knew that Dr. Director wasn't bluffing about the chemicalized truth ray. She was too good of a strategist to pull a stunt like that. Therefore, then he knew that no matter what he did, he would have to tell her everything.

So, he did, and gained perverse enjoyment from the look that crossed Dr. Director's face.

"_We are GJEUR."_

* * *

"This is not good," Wade said nervously. The Panther Enforcers had somehow gotten their hands on a master key for the McHenry security system, and the second team had shut down the grid and locked the controls. He watched on the monitor as they made their way up the stairs and to his bedroom door.

The door opened into his holosuite.

"Man, what is this place?" one of the enforcers asked.

"They say this kid's some kind of genius, so who knows," another replied. "Ain't our business to analyze his stuff, we're just here to kill 'im."

"Stuff it, you two," the leader snapped. He was looking around, having heard the stories and tales from the henchmen they'd brought on, and he was justifiably nervous at poking around in the house of Wade Load. He turned his head to his left again, saw the boy, and then turned and opened fire.

The others all did the same.

* * *

"You cannot contact Wade-san?" Yori asked nervously.

"No, and I don't like that," Ron replied. "Yori, this is starting to-"

He was cut off by the sound of Rufus jumping up and down and squealing in fear. The naked mole rat was watching one of the security monitors, and pointed to a group of men coming up the central staircase of the safe house.

"Oh no," Ron said softly. "Those are Panther goons."

"Quickly, we must leave," Yori said, as she pushed a hidden panel in Ron's closet, revealing a secret ladder to the roof. "This way, Stoppable-san."

"Right," he said, collecting the ronunnicator, his equipment pack, and sticking Rufus in his pocket. "What about the guys on the stairs?"

"They will be dealt with," Yori replied as she began to climb up the ladder. Ron followed her, and soon they were on the roof of the building, listening as the goon's arrived in the rooms below them and began to search the place.

"How did they find us?" Ron asked.

"It does not matter," Yori replied. "We have to run, Stoppable-san."

They ran, and jumped, across the rooftops of the surrounding buildings, until they were three houses away, and Yori hid them behind a chimney. She pulled out her cell phone and dialed a three-digit number. The feed from the safe-house's security system appeared on the cell's video screen.

"Excellent," she said. "They are still inside." Then she entered another number, and Ron heard and felt a series of loud bangs, as demolition charges hidden inside the safe house destroyed its foundation and brought the house to a crashing ruin, with the Panther Enforcers still inside.

"Remind me not to let my dad rate you for life insurance," Ron said after a moment.

Yori smiled, lightly.

"All of the safe-houses are equipped with such devices. This way, any of the others will know that we were compromised, and will proceed to a secondary location."

"I see."

"Stoppable-san, even though we cannot contact Wade-san, can you use that device to track Shuu?"

He tapped on his pocket, and Rufus stuck his head out.

"Rufus, we to do some tracking with the ronnunicator. Do your stuff, buddy."

* * *

"That," Wade said grimly, "was for what y'all did to Kim."

The holosuite had projected images of him onto each of the Panther Enforcers, who had simply shot each other. Wade just stared at the bodies in disgust, and then called Global Justice.

* * *

Rufus had reconfigured the ronnunicator to track Shuu's signal. It took them twenty minutes of travel through back alleys and over the rooftops, but they finally arrived at the spot where the signal said Shuu lay. All that was a dumpster, and several shadowed doorways.

With a feeling of trepidation, Yori lifted the cover of the dumpster. She let out a gasp.

"Shuu-san," she said quietly. His body had been dumped there, his eyes wide open, but in defiance, not fright. He had been wounded, that much was certain, but the cause of death was the bullet hole in his forehead.

"Do you like our work?" came an accented voice from one of the doorways.

"Heinrich," Ron said, whirling to face him.

"Ah, you remember me, Herr Stoppable. I am flattered. Oh, if you are looking for Phoenix, it has already left."

"You did this," Yori growled.

"Of course. He saw things he should not have, much like Frauline Possible did. Again, his fate was sealed the moment he found us here."

He had a gun out, a silenced .45, and was alternately pointing it at Yori and Ron. He thought it was a deterrent. He thought wrong.

In flash Yori was in front of him, inside his range, knocking the gun from his hand, and putting him in a headlock.

"All I have to do is twist," she hissed.

"And end your friend's quest here," he gasped. "Please… I can tell you where he is going!"

"Oh, so you're going to help us now," Ron said, walking up to the two of them. "Why should I believe that?"

"Because… I don't want to die…"

"Yet you seem so good at dealing it out to others. Sorry, don't think I believe you."

Yori tightened her hold, her arms constricting like the coils of a python.

"Wait!" Heinrich gasped. "Let me go, and I'll take you to him."

"Not good enough," Ron said coldly. "I know Concolor is here in Paris. Tell me where he is."

"He… he's not in Paris anymore! That's why Phoenix isn't here, she went with him!"

"Then where is he going," Ron asked.

"Let me go, and I'll tell you. Please!"

Ron looked at him for a long moment, then looked back at Yori and nodded. She released him, and he stood up and massaged his neck.

"He is returning to his home," Heinrich began, "in Eng-"

He was cut off by the impact of a small dart in his neck. A look of confusion crossed his face, and he pulled the dart out and looked at it. Then he smiled grimly, and let out one last bitter huff of air, and then he collapse in a limp heap, and would never move again.

Yori could already tell that he was dead.

Ron looked on in anger, and then looked to see where the shot had come from. Up above, on the roof, there was a man in a Global Justice uniform. Others were now pouring into the alleyway.

"Hey," he yelled. "The dude was about to tell us where Concolor was."

"We know, Mr. Stoppable," one of the men in the alley said.

Yori stood up and moved next to Ron. Both of them were picking up a bad vibe from the situation.

"What was in that dart?" Ron asked.

"Quite the potent little cocktail, Mr. Stoppable," the same GJ agent replied. "A mix of concentrated black mamba venom, a few other really nasty neurotoxins, and something specially cooked up for Mr. Heinrich himself."

"Why?"

"Why? The fool put you on the path of Concolor, that's why. And now, he was about to tell you where the Boss was going. Didn't know how to keep himself alive, I guess."

"But… but you are from Global Justice," Yori protested.

"Global Justice?" the man said with a laugh, then raised his rifle. "My dear, there is no Global Justice in Europe. We are Panther. I must admit, I am impressed; the ruckus that the two of you have raised has been enough to draw Concolor's personal interest. He considers you to be worthy opponents, but I doubt he'll complain if we get the kill."

"Wait just a-" Ron began to say, but the man cut him off with a gesture. The other double agents raised their own rifles and aimed them at Ron and Yori.

"Kill them," the man ordered.

End Part 3


	4. The Players Revealed

"_What is truth?" - Pontius Pilate, John 18:38_

Part 4: The Players Revealed

Chapter X: The Battle on the Rooftops

Rufus had left Ron's pocket when Heinrich appeared, and scurried up to his owner's shoulder. That perch was quickly vacated when the faux-GJ sniper had shot Heinrich dead. Ever since, the naked mole rat had clung to Ron's shirt at the small of his back, digging through his belt pouches for something that could help.

"Global Justice?" the man said with a laugh, then raised his rifle. "My dear, there is no Global Justice in Europe. We are Panther. I must admit, I am impressed; the ruckus that the two of you have raised has been enough to draw Concolor's personal interest. He considers you to be worthy opponents, but I doubt he'll complain if we get the kill."

Rufus found what he'd been looking for, and quickly passed the flash-bangs to Yori. They were another one of Wade's inventions, each a small sphere about two centimeters in diameter, containing a highly concentrated compound of phosphorus and magnesium, along with a pressure-activated ignition system. All that the user had to do was squeeze and throw.

Rufus had handed Yori five of the spheres.

"Wait just a-" Ron began to say, but the man cut him off with a gesture. The other double agents raised their own rifles and aimed them at Ron and Yori.

Yori began to squeeze the spheres.

"Kill them," the man ordered.

Yori threw the activated spheres into the air.

"Duck, Stoppable-san!" Yori cried.

Ron took a quick guess at what she had in mind, decided that there were no waterfowl involved, and threw himself to the ground, his hands shielding his eyes. Whether they were covering his eyes due to having intuited Yori and Rufus' plan, or because he didn't' want to see death coming, he would never say.

The spheres reached a height of ten feet above the ground before they exploded, and then the alleyway was filled with the light of five momentary stars.

He heard the burst of the spheres and saw the white flash through his pressed hands, and quickly rose to his feet when they faded. Ron raised an eyebrow and gave Yori an appreciative look when he saw the men, who had intended to kill him, staggering about blindly. As he helped Yori to her feet, they heard the leader of the hit squad radioing for reinforcements.

"C'mon, Yori, let's go," Ron said, grabbing her arm and pulling her towards the other end of the alleyway. He drew the hairdryer as they ran, and took aim at the edge of the roof on one of the buildings. He fired, and the hook embedded itself in the wall.

Yori threw her arms around his neck, Ron wrapped his other arm around her waist, and Rufus hung on for dear life as the winch in the hairdryer hauled them to the rooftop.

* * *

She stepped out of her former subordinate's office and leaned against the wall. Her body shook as her mind struggled to assimilate the information he'd given.

"_We are GJEUR."_

She had been so sure that it was nothing more than a taunt, but he'd repeated it after the truth serum kicked in. She'd probed further; trying to find the extent of the infestation, and Craven had seemed almost gleeful as he told her.

'_One hundred men,'_ Dr. Director thought, her hand shaking as she held the paper on which the list had been written. _'Only one hundred loyal men on this continent, five of which are in this base. Only five…'_

"Ma'am?"

It was one of the agents she'd brought over from America.

"Yes, Agent Smith?"

"Ma'am, Ocelot Blue is complete," he stated. "We have complete control of the base, and all local GJEUR personnel are in custody."

"Thank you, Agent," she said, trying to muster a smile as she handed him the sheet of paper. "Here, find the five people on this list and bring them to me."

"Yes, ma'am," he said, taking the paper. "These five the miscreants?"

"No, Agent," she said with a sigh, "they're the only ones who are on our side."

"Blessed bovine," the agent said quietly.

"Anything else, Agent?"

"Yes ma'am," he said quickly. "We got a call in from GJAMN headquarters. Apparently Panther tried to attack the Load residence. We're taking care of it now."

* * *

Global Justice bases were standardized in layout, so she was able to find her way from Craven's office to the control room fairly quickly. The information about the attack on Wade had reminded her that she had other assets in Europe, and that she didn't know where those assets were.

She placed a call to the line that Kim had given her years ago.

"Oh, hey Dr. Director," Wade said distractedly. "What's up?"

"Wade," she said without preamble, "where's Ron? Is he with anyone?"

"He's with… a friend, and they're in Paris," he said, and then raised an eyebrow when he saw Dr. Director turn pale. "Why? What's up?"

"We don't have anyone in France."

"What are you talking about? Last count was you had twenty teams in France, with five of those in Paris alone."

Dr. Director bowed her head and began to massage her temples. Europe had been a headache for a few years, but she hadn't known the extent. Apparently neither did Wade, despite the disturbing fact that he did know their troop deployments. But she didn't dwell on that.

"Wade… we don't have any friendly assets in France. At all."

Wade just stared at her for a moment, through the video link, and then quickly moved back behind his computer and began working the keyboard.

"The friend is Yori, a teacher from the Yamanouchi School, so tell your men not to shoot her. I'm sending you the tracking frequency for the chip I stuck in Ron," he said quickly. "Your satellites should be able to track it."

"Send it to the base in Hameln, Wade. If you know where our agents are, you should know how to send it here."

"You're in Germany? That would explain why I couldn't get you when I called headquarters."

"Europe has it's own Panther problem, but I think you're figuring that out. Wade, I'm issuing an order to put your parents in protective custody. They'll be safe with GJAMN. You I need here. GJ will fly you into Hameln."

"Right… at least I'll have a fully operation computer set again. One of the goons put a few rounds in my system."

"Hopefully we'll be up to your standards," Dr. Director said, wishing she could have laughed even as she said it. "We'll be waiting. Dr. Director out."

She shut down the feed, and then transferred the tracking information to the satellite control station. One of her men was working the computer now, and he quickly reset the nearest tracking satellite to lock in on the frequency and display the results on the main view screen.

A map of Paris resolved on the screen, a single red dot representing Ron and Yori as they fled across the rooftops of western Paris. A group of twelve green triangles was chasing them, running behind but quickly catching up, and a second group of twelve was approaching Ron from the north, and positioned to intercept.

"Are those what I think they are?"

"Ma'am," one her technicians said, "those are Global Justice transponders." He'd heard her comment to Wade, all of them had heard, and all knew what that meant.

"Will," she said, turning to her aide. "You said you wanted some fieldwork… take ten men, the fastest jet here, and get to Paris. We'll provide telemetry."

Will Du nodded and quickly chose his team, and then left the control room, headed for the hangar bay. Dr. Director turned back to the map of Paris and watched the progress of the pursuit even as a great feeling of trepidation settled on her.

* * *

The flash-bangs had bought them time, but hadn't stopped the pursuit. The men they'd faced in the alley had recovered quickly, and it hadn't taken them long to find the grapnel and figure out which building their quarry had used for egress. Ron and Yori were only three buildings away by the time the chase began again.

Still they ran, for nearly twenty minutes, leaping from rooftop to rooftop, occasionally swinging across the wider streets, but never stopping. Ron had grown considerably in strength, skill, and stamina, and unlike in their long ago trek through the Amazon was able to keep up with Yori during their flight. Yet for all that, the enemy continued to gain on them.

It seemed strange to Ron to consider men from Global Justice as the enemy, to have to run from their uniform, to have to dodge the bullets from their guns. They'd assisted each other in the past, and GJ had even once considered him the secret to Kim's success. He'd let himself get a big head at that one, though the ego stroking hadn't hurt his opinion of the organization. For so long he'd considered them to be allies in the continuing fight against megalomania.

But, he reflected as another shot sparked on the roof beneath him, for so long he'd believed that Kim would never lose, and then he'd seen her defeated and in a death grip. It seemed to be a time for challenging preconceptions.

He continued to run, the ever growing sound of footfalls behind him spurring him on. Yori was beside him, her face one of fierce concentration. She saw the problem they had, that soon their pursuers would be upon them and there would be no more chance to run. Ron knew they couldn't let themselves loose, as they were the only ones who had heard Heinrich's last words. They were the only ones who knew where Concolor was going.

England. That was all it could have been. Somehow, Ron and Yori knew, they needed to figure out a way to survive, and make use of that information

However, neither Yori nor Ron had any chance to think of a plan, for a bullet caressed Ron's right thigh, drawing a line of crimson blood on his leg. The glancing blow caused him to stumble and fall, rolling and skidding across the rough surface of the roof. Yori had ran several feet on before she noticed that he'd fallen, but a flurry of shots kept her from him and forced her to duck behind an outcropping on the roof.

They both noticed the second group approaching, this one heading directly towards Yori's position.

The enemy commander split his team into two groups, one to cover Yori and the other to cover Ron, while he himself slowly crossed the final few meters towards Ron's prone form. By the time he'd got there Ron had pulled himself into a crouch, though he was clearly favoring his right leg.

"You should have stayed away, Mr. Stoppable," the man said coldly. "This ends now."

Ron watched as the man aimed his pistol at his head, and he knew that it was the end for him. Yori was ten feet away, and pinned down by gunfire. Global Justice, the other allies he'd thought he had in Europe, were actually working with Panther, and now one of them was going to put a bullet in his head, and he would never see Kim again, and no one would be left to search for her.

At that thought, the realization that he would never see his beloved again and that the search for her would die with him, that she would be forever lost, a violent anger began to burn in his heart. It was what he had begun to feel at Alfeld, what had tempted him in Heinrich's office, and what he had only felt twice before in his life. The second time had been during the final confrontation with Drakken and Phillip Sparks.

The first had been in the world headquarters of Bueno Nacho, when he'd charged Erik, thinking that the synthodrone had killed Kim. That time the dark angel had reburied itself when Shego had interrupted his attack, and then had resurfaced when he'd faced Erik down in the command center.

The angel again spread its charcoal wings deep within in his heart, and whispered to him.

This time, he listened, and the dark angel that bore his face filled with a purpose and with strength.

_'No one will stop you from saving her.'_

He sprung up from the crouch, just as he had all those years ago against Erik. The delivered blow was identical, a flip kick delivered to the chin, intended to be a coup d'mort to the target.

Erik had been a synthodrone, and as such had not been wounded by the blow. The enemy before him was flesh and blood, and fell backwards and collapsed in a heap, his neck twisted at an impossible angle. He would never move again.

The dark angel vanished, and Ron stood and stared at the body.

'_I… I killed him…'_

There was no more time for him to contemplate this, as the other GJEUR agents had recovered from the shock and had begun firing at him again. He tried to run for Yori's position, but his right leg just wasn't working right, and then other bullets were grazing him, opening wounds on his arms as well as his leg.

Then one last round pierced his abdomen, and he fell to the ground with a cry of pain and frustration. The enemy stopped firing then and began moving towards him, his low profile to ground killing their shooting angle, and forcing them to close and engage. Yori took the break in fire to run towards him, to try and help him up and run. He tried to tell her to go, to leave him there and keep up the search, but the words didn't come.

She took up a fighting position, prepared to defend her friend to the last. The enemy just laughed.

The screams of a hypersonic jet engine pierced the night air, and a Global Justice aircraft swooped above them. It made one pass and then came around again, transiting thrust control from the engine to the hover pods. Searchlights projected from the craft and illuminated the traitorous GJEUR agents, along with the second group from the north, and Ron and Yori.

"_This is Global Justice Agent Will Du,"_ a familiar voice said over the craft's loudspeaker. "_Throw down your guns and surrender now."_

The traitors aimed their rifles at the craft and opened fire. The GJ aircraft, it's crew not in any mood to play nice, deployed a series of 20mm Vulcan cannons and cut down the first group with merciless fire. Two missiles, set to airburst detonation, decimated the second group. The ship came to rest above Ron and Yori, and the last thing that Ron remembered before he fell into unconsciousness was the sight of Yori kneeling next to him, calling his name, and the silhouette of Will Du sliding down a rescue line.

* * *

"_This ends now."_

_He sprung up from the crouch, just as he had all those years ago against Erik. The delivered blow was identical, a flip kick delivered to the chin, intended to be a coup d'mort to the target._

_Erik had been a synthodrone, and as such had not been wounded by the blow. The enemy before him was flesh and blood, and fell backwards and collapsed in a heap, his neck twisted at an impossible angle. He would never move again._

_The scene reset. The GJEUR agent was above him, gun pointed at his head._

"_This ends now."_

_The mortal blow replayed itself in his mind again and again, never ending despite the words of the turncoat. It wasn't constant, though; interspaced within the event were glimpses of the inside of an aircraft, the lights of an emergency room and the faces of doctors, and the faces and voices of his allies, Wade and Yori._

_And Kim. Her face was ever in his mind, the memory of her voice and her touch reminding him of why had killed the man who'd tried to kill him._

_Why he killed... had he really just taken a life just so he could see her feel here touch, and hear her voice, again? Was that what, who, he was becoming?_

_He wanted to wake up, to escape the terror of the vision, but he couldn't._

"_This ends now."_

"_Ron…"_

_There was a new voice._

"_Ron, wake up. C'mon, Ron, I can hear_ you moaning, it's time to wake up."

He awoke with a moan, and opened his eyes to see Wade standing over him.

"Wade? Where am I?"

"You're at Global Justice headquarters, in Hameln," Wade explained.

"Global Justice-"

"Yeah. Turns out GJEUR had a Panther infestation, but don't worry. Dr. Director is here now. We can trust her, Ron."

"I'll take your word for it," Ron grunted and sat up, wincing as he felt the sore spot in his abdomen. "How long was I out?"

"Three days. Man, when you zonk, you _zonk_, though I suppose the drugs they shot you up with helped. They've got a pretty good medical setup here, patched you right up."

"Yori…"

"She's fine, Ron. Right now, she's in the control room with Dr. Director, going over some intelligence."

"I need to see them, Wade. We know where Concolor is going."

* * *

"So, you're saying the Phoenix didn't know _how_ to kill when it was in Vienna?"

"That is correct, Dr. Director," Yori replied. "You can tell from the type of blows it strikes, and the way it fights, that the Phoenix did not yet know how to deliver a killing blow. The forensics from the later attacks, and… from Shuu-san, suggest that it is slowly learning."

"Great. So now Panther has something that can out-fight seven outposts worth of GJ agents, and one of your students, and soon it won't need someone following it to finish off the targets," Dr. Director said with a quiet sigh.

"But why these bases, though?" Yori asked. "There were other bases in the cities, and even some in Paris. Yet it did not touch those."

"That's the easy part, Yori," Dr. Director replied. "The bases it left alone were staffed by Panther infiltrators. Craven was segregating the loyal agents from the traitors, and then feeding the information to Panther so they could _cull_ GJEUR."

"The Uriah Scenario, then," Wade said as he walked into the control room, Ron trailing behind him.

"Stoppable-san!" Yori said, glad to see him moving again. She moved to his side and hugged him, and he smiled at her in reply.

"Okay, that settles it," Dr. Director said to Wade. "Not only do you know where our agents are, but you also know the code-words for our internal situations. When this is done, my Information Security chief is going to have a very, _very_, long talk with you."

Wade laughed and looked down, somewhat embarrassed.

"Ron," Dr. Director continued. "Welcome back to the land of the living."

"Thanks, Doc," he said quietly. "What's going on here? I was just chased, through Paris, by agents of Global Justice, and I want to know _why_."

"They weren't Global Justice, they were Panther," Dr. Director said sadly. "Panther bought out Vice-Director Craven years ago, along with much of GJEUR's upper echelon. Most of the agents were either bought out or killed, and nearly all of our European recruits for the past two years have been Panther plants. Europe is one big mess, Ron."

"Tell me about it," he said dryly. "Has Yori told you what we found out?"

"That Concolor was headed for England? Yes, she has."

"And…" he said, knowing he wouldn't like the answer.

"And we haven't been able to do a thing about it," she answered reluctantly. "You have to understand, I've got an entire continent to clean up. When we arrived here, there were maybe a hundred loyal agents left, and that number is dwindling as word of our little coup gets out. I need every agent I have to weed out the Panther infestation here, and I don't have any agents to send on what is likely a wild goose chase."

Ron did not like that answer at all, but before he could say what he was thinking, Yori had gently touched his arm and started speaking.

"Dr. Director, you do have two agents whom you can spare," she said quietly and patiently.

"Who?"

"Us," Ron replied.

"Ron, you're in no condition to-"

"Doesn't matter," he said in reply. "I've come too far, and done too much, just to stop now. Concolor knows what happened to Kim, the only lead we have places him in England, and I'm going."

"And I will go with him," Yori stated. Dr. Director looked at them both and then shook her head, either remembering her younger days or just marveling at their stubbornness.

"Heinrich was probably playing you, but I doubt I could stop either of you even if I wanted to. Fine, we'll provide transportation into England, and Wade can coordinate with you from here. Do we need to arrange a base of operations for you, or-"

"Do not worry, Dr. Director," Yori said, surprising everyone. "I will take care of that."

* * *

Chapter XI: Masquerade

Ron was unusually quiet during the flight from Hameln to London. Even Rufus seem subdued, as whatever excitement the thought of closing in on Concolor would have brought was being held back by something else. Yori suspected what was going on in Ron's mind, but did not wish to discuss it on the plane or in the airport.

The driving time from the airport to their destination was another story.

"Stoppable-san," she said hesitantly. "About what happened… in Paris…"

"I killed a man, Yori," he said quietly, with no inflection or emotion in his voice. "He was going to kill me, so I killed him instead. The whole time I was down and out, that was all that was going through my head, all that I could see."

"You had never killed before, then?"

"Never," he replied. "Came close twice. First time was against a synthodrone, so that didn't work. Second time, I had to stop and save Kim. This… this was the first."

"You did what you had to, Stoppable-san," she said. "If you had not, then it is likely that we would both be dead now."

"Yeah, I know," he said, allowing some emotion into his voice, though she had no idea what that emotion was. "Doesn't make it any easier to swallow, though."

"Nor should it, Stoppable-san. Ah," she said, turning off of the main road. "We are here."

"Where's here?"

"This is the Japanese Embassy, Stoppable-san. The Yamanouchi School is known here, and the Ambassador has agreed to help us."

* * *

The help offered by the Ambassador wound up consisting of a place to stay, full access to the Embassy grounds, and a blank check for anything that they would need. Ron was curious about the degree of cooperation, and also about the identity of the ambassador, but other things were on his mind and so he did not ask. Besides, he'd never been one to pass up a free lunch.

He'd spent the day in his room, just allowing his mind to ponder the past few weeks, specifically what had happened one dark night in Paris. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get himself to feel anything about that night, not regret, not even grim satisfaction. There was nothing there, just a cold, empty space in his heart, and the memory of the dreams from the past three days.

That emptiness was disturbed him the most, and the fact that he was unmoved had bothered him during the entire trip from Germany to England. That was the emotion that had entered his voice during the car ride.

The thing of it was, while a part of him wanted to regret killing the man, the rest of him knew he shouldn't. As Yori had said, he'd had no choice.

Sometime just before sunset, Yori came into his room and tossed something on the bed next to him. He rolled over as Rufus walked over to inspect it.

"What's this?"

"Your tuxedo, Stoppable-san," she said with a smile.

"Okay, see, I know we're in England and all, amongst the diplomatic circles, and it's supposed to be all fancy and formal here, but why do I need a tuxedo?"

"Because the Ambassador has arranged for us to be on the guest list of a reception at the Palace, and you need to look your best."

"A reception? At the palace? As in, "house of the king and queen" palace?"

"Of course, Stoppable-san," she replied with a laugh. "What other kind of palace would there be?"

"Huh. How did we score that?"

* * *

Despite his misgivings, and the fact that he had to leave Rufus behind (a formal reception at Buckingham Palace was no place for a naked mole rat, no matter how anthropomorphic), Ron finally agreed to go. They had a target in London, a warehouse identified from the Alfeld data, but they wouldn't be able to hit it until well after midnight, and a party at the palace would be a better way to pass the time than just sitting in his room. The Ambassador also said he wanted them there to introduce them to a few people who could help in the search for Concolor, which made it a worthwhile diversion for that reason, and was ultimately what convinced Ron to go.

So it was, then, that he found himself being escorted down the halls of Buckingham Palace, dressed in a fine black tuxedo, with Yori by his side, wearing a black floor-length evening gown and black gloves. The escort brought them to the primary receiving hall and showed them in, but did not announce them, much to their relief. Yori quickly picked out the Japanese Ambassador and led Ron over to him. His back was turned to them, but something about him looked familiar.

She walked ahead of him and spoke the Ambassador, then turned back to Ron.

"Stoppable-san," Yori said, "may I introduce you to Japan's Emissary to His Majesty's Government, and a fellow graduate of the Yamanouchi School, Ambassador Nakasumi-san."

The Ambassador turned to Ron, who realized that he had, indeed, heard Yori correctly.

"Dude, _no way_," Ron said with a grin.

"It is good to see you too, Mr. Stoppable," Nakasumi-san replied. "Though I wish it were under better circumstances."

"So do I. How did you score this gig?"

"Japan is ready to take it's place in the world as a force of good," Nakasumi-san replied, "and who better to represent that to the West than a toy maker who was trained as a ninja?"

"Dude, you went to the Yamanouchi School?"

"Ninjitsu can come in handy during board meetings," Ms. Yoshiko said as she walked over to stand next to Nakasumi. "Good evening, Mr. Stoppable. We are both very sorry about Ms. Possible."

"Ms. Yori has informed me of your purpose here," Nakasumi-san said to Ron, "and we stand ready to help you in any way needed."

"Which is why I'm here?"

"Of course. I hope to be able to introduce you to the heads of MI-5 and MI-6, and also your American Ambassador and the head CIA station chief. A chat with the Israeli Ambassador would also be worthwhile, I believe."

"Yeah… that's a lot of important people here," Ron said, feeling slightly overwhelmed. "What's the sitch?"

"The reception, you mean? It is for Lord Richard DeLong, recently returned from a tour of continental Europe," Nakasumi said, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial level. "It known that he is a close personal friend of His Majesty, and that he also has the ear of the Prime Minister. Somehow, though, he's managed to keep himself out of the public eye and maintain a very private life. Not all are comfortable with a cipher having an unknown amount of influence on the Primer Minister, though."

"I see," Ron said with a nod. "What was he doing in Europe?"

"It is a very sad story. His sister and her husband were killed in a car accident last month. They were living in America at the time, and left behind a daughter, who had been studying at Yale. When Lord DeLong returned from the funeral, he had his niece with him. They left England a few days later, traveling to Vienna in a private jet, understandably wanting to get away for a while."

"His niece?" Yori asked.

"Yes, a girl named Karen Pellman. The press was kept away from them, so no one has seen her yet. While she was here, she remained inside the DeLong mansion. It's understandable, the poor child, having lost her family like that…"

"I know what you mean," Ron said softly.

"I suppose you do, even better than I," Nakasumi-san said gravely, then noticed something at the door. "Ah, he's arrived."

Nakasumi-san motioned for them to turn around, and Ron caught his first glimpse of Lord Richard DeLong. He was an older man, late fifties it appeared, but powerfully built, just exceeding six feet tall. His face was lined and looked somewhat harsh, though Ron could tell that he could put on a charming smile if he ever wished, was likely kind, if stern. His eyes were sunken deep and narrow, and Ron thought that something was hidden behind them. He had a large forehead, and brown hair and eyebrows, and his tuxedo was similar to Ron's, except with a vest, and his hands were gloved in white. He greeted the door warden warmly, having apparently attended enough of these events to develop a familiarity with the man.

Then he looked behind him and motioned for someone to come in. His smile became warm and affectionate, and his mouth moved as if he was coaxing in someone shy.

"This must be Ms. Pellman," Nakasumi-san whispered to Ron.

Ron nodded in reply. He could not see through the door itself, the angle was wrong, so he didn't see her until she'd entered the room. When she did, it felt like his heart would snap in two.

Karen Pellman was only five foot six, petite and lithe in form and figure. She was adorned in an ankle length sleeveless blue dress, and high-heeled slippers. The dress was low cut, but did not reveal enough to be tasteless. A single sapphire hung from her neck, suspended by a thin silver chain.

Her hair was red, and her eyes were green.

"_Oh, my God,"_ Ron whispered in shock, his heart pounding in his chest. Time seemed to have frozen in place, yet he felt his feet start to move, trying to carry him towards her.

'_KP…'_

Then a hand wrapped itself around his arm and restrained him.

"Contain your passions, Stoppable-kun!" Nakasumi-san whispered urgently. "You must wear a mask today, my friend."

"You see her, too," Ron said quietly, "don't you?"

"Yes, I see her. You must make your heart ninja; do you hear me, Stoppable-kun? Until we know what this means, you must put a mask on your face and on your heart, do you understand?"

He paused for a moment, and then nodded, listening to Nakasumi-san's words and trying to calm himself. His heart rate returned to normal, and so did his perceived flow of time, and he even managed to grab the emotions that were swirling in him and hide them away from view.

"Yes, I understand, " he said, turning to face Nakasumi-san, his face now empty of the earlier confusion and shock. A mask of placid acceptance had fallen over his features. He would hide his heart until he knew for sure.

"Good, because they are coming this way. Ms. Yoshiko, Ms. Yori, stand to my left. Stoppable-kun, stand to my right. We must play this carefully."

Lord DeLong had caught sight of Nakasumi, and his entourage, and had begun to make his way to them. The girl known as Karen Pellman followed behind him.

"Ah, Ambassador Nakasumi-san," DeLong said jovially when he reached them. "It's good to see you again."

Nakasumi turned and whispered in Ms. Yoshiko's ear, then shook Lord DeLong's hand.

"Ambassador Nakasumi-san says that it is good to see you too, and wishes to extent his sympathy to you and your niece for your recent loss."

Ron stood and watched, examining every feature of Lord Richard DeLong, trying to keep the coldness from his eyes.

"We thank you for your courtesy, Ambassador," Lord DeLong said gravely. "Ms. Yoshiko I remember, but I do not believe that I've had the pleasure of meeting your other two companions."

"This is Ms. Yori," Ms. Yoshiko told him. "She is a recent graduate from Ambassador Nakasumi-san's old school, and will be interning with us for a time."

"A pleasure, Ms. Yori," DeLong said gallantly, taking her offered hand in his and giving it a light kiss.

"The same, Lord DeLong," she said quietly.

"And this is Mr. Stoppable. He is an old friend of Ambassador Nakasumi-san, and is here on the Ambassador's invitation."

"Stoppable, Stoppable," DeLong said as he shook Ron's hand. "Ah, yes! You must be the famous Ron Stoppable."

"I am," Ron replied.

"Excellent. I have long wanted to meet you, Mr. Stoppable, as it is not often that we have a genuine hero amongst us. Please, accept our condolences for the loss of your partner, Ms. Possible. The world lost a great champion that day, but I realize that the loss was more… personal for you."

"Thank you, Lord DeLong."

"What brings you to London?"

"Business," Ron replied.

"Oh? Someone is threatening the world from here? Or is it more personal than that?"

"Just business, Lord DeLong," Ron said with finality.

"I see. Again, it was an honor to meet you, Mr. Stoppable, and please, feel free to find me if you need anything. I may be able to help you."

"No, the honor was all mine, Lord DeLong," Ron said quietly, shaking the man's hand again. "And believe me… if I need your help, I'll come looking for it."

"I would not have offered if I expected otherwise," DeLong said in the same quiet tone, then turned animated again. "But where are my manners? You must forgive me, I am not used to having to introduce others. Ambassador Nakasumi-san, Ms. Yori, Ms. Yoshiko, and Mr. Stoppable, may I present to you my niece, Karen Pellman."

Karen stepped up and shook hands with each of them in turn. It was all Ron could do to keep from saying something, as her grip even felt the same as Kim's.

"It is fortuitous that I found you here," DeLong was saying. "Ambassador Nakasumi-san, His Majesty has a matter of state that he wishes for us to discuss. It would be best if we could do so in private, so perhaps Mr. Stoppable could… take my niece in hand?"

'_No, please no…'_

Ron's discipline held, he gave no outward sign of discomfort, but Nakasumi knew what he was feeling. He also knew that he had to keep up appearances.

'_Be ninja, Stoppable-kun,' _he thought, and then nodded.

"Perhaps Ms. Yori would care to accompany us?" DeLong suggested. "Please, I insist. It is nothing classified, and a discussion such as this would be good experience for her."

Nakasumi acquiesced, for he could not deny the request and maintain their cover; and so Ron was left alone with Karen Pellman. Not for the first time in his life, he had absolutely no idea what to do.

"So…" he said hesitantly.

"So… should I call you Ron, or Mr. Stoppable?" she asked.

"Uh…" he replied, feeling his brain start to seize up. "Ron'll do, Ms. Pellman."

"Karen, please."

"Uh, sure."

"Do you want to sit down?" she asked with an amused grin.

"Uh, sure, sit down… heh-heh, yeah…"

"Are you always this nervous around girls?" she asked as they sat at a nearby table.

"Just around ones I don't know," he replied.

She laughed, and Ron tried to relax. Her face, her voice, and her body… it was all just too close to Kim for him to be comfortable, but somehow he became ninja, and reigned in his heart and kept his reactions under control. After a time they started chatting, her telling him stories of her tour of Europe, and him regaling her with such thrilling tales as the invention of the naco, and several of the missions he and Kim had undertaken. She complemented his skills as a storyteller, informing him that he made her feel like she had actually been there.

He had just begun to grow comfortable when the musicians (a small string quartet had been providing background music) changed from an arranged pop piece to a classic waltz. Several of the people in the room began dancing together, and soon the whole room was moving. Karen gave Ron a mischievous look (she found him slightly weird, but likeable), and Ron simply cleared his throat nervously.

"Tell me, Ron, do you know how to dance a waltz?"

"I _am_ a bomb diggity dancer," he said, with some pride.

"I'll take that as a no," Karen replied dryly. "Come on, then, I'll teach you."

He had no time to protest before she grabbed him by the hand and dragged him out to the dance floor. She showed him how to hold her, and then began leading him across the floor. In a short time he'd picked up on the steps, and then Ron found himself leading Karen in the dance, and actually enjoying it. For a time, as they danced, he let himself forget everything that happened; all the sadness and pain and regret he'd been dealing with faded in the simple enjoyment of the dance. For a brief moment, he let himself believe that it was Kim he was dancing with, and not her doppelganger.

He let himself slow, as that belief filled him. How he'd longed for another moment like this. How he'd longed to feel her arms around him, and his around her, their faces inches apart as they danced and soared across the floor. Tears began to fill his eyes as he realized just how much he'd missed her.

"Kim…" he whispered, looking her in the eye, the tears beginning to fall. For a moment his mask failed, and love and longing were written in his eyes.

"Kim? Who's Kim?" Karen answered, and then the spell was broken, and Ron stood there, a look of shock on his face and tears on his cheeks as he held a very confused girl in his arms.

"I… oh man, I'm sorry, I…" he said quickly, turning away and disengaging from the dance, and then rushed out of the room to the balcony. He could hear her coming after him, but he didn't stop until he'd reached the railing.

'_What was I thinking?'_

"Ron," Karen said as she stepped out after him. "Ron, what's the matter?"

"I never did tell you why I was here, did I?"

"No," she said, confused as to why he was mentioning it. "No, you didn't. You didn't even tell my uncle."

"I'm looking for someone," he said, not facing her, just staring out over the city. "Someone… very dear to me is missing, and I'm trying to find her."

"And this person is… 'Kim'?"

"Yeah. You… you remind me of her," he said, choking back what he wanted to say. "And when we were dancing…"

"You started to think I _was_ her."

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I must've offended you."

She walked up to him and gently placed a hand on his shoulder. Had he turned to look, he would have seen her smiling at him with compassion.

"Ron…" she said gently. "So not the drama."

She meant well, but that was the wrong thing to say. Ron stiffened, and fought hard to contain the sobs that threatened to burst out of him like a torrent. He wanted her to go, but couldn't bring himself to start speaking. Another voice, though, provided the out.

"I think I hear my uncle," Karen said, her hand still on his shoulder. "I should be getting back inside."

Ron nodded sharply. Karen didn't take offense, knowing that something had opened a wound in him. Instead, she squeezed his shoulder affectionately.

"I'm glad I met you, Ron Stoppable," she said warmly, and then turned and went inside. She found Lord DeLong quickly; he and Ambassador Nakasumi had returned to the room while she and Ron were outside.

"Ah, there you are my dear," DeLong said. "I trust Mr. Stoppable kept you entertained?"

"He did, uncle," she said quickly, deciding to keep what Ron had told her secret.

"Where is he?" Yori asked.

"He's on the balcony," Karen replied, motioning towards the opening. Yori turned to look and saw Ron bending over the railing, his shoulders and chest shaking from quiet sobs. She shot Nakasumi a look, and then went out to him.

"Stoppable-san?" Yori said quietly as she walked out on the balcony. He was doing well at keeping quiet, as she couldn't hear him crying in the room, but outside it was obvious. She walked up and stood next to him, and gently rested a hand on his arm.

"It was her, Yori," he said through the tears. "I _know_ it was her, she's so close, and I can't even-"

His own tears cut him off. Yori stood there, watching him cry… and then she was no longer a ninja, she was his friend and a _woman_; and she snaked her right arm through his, and wrapped her left arm around his shoulders, and stood there and held him as he cried. No words were shared, for there was nothing she could say. She simply held him close and let him cry.

It was the best thing, the only thing, she could do.

* * *

Chapter XII: Phoenix Rising

The reception ended around midnight. Lord DeLong and Karen returned to the mansion a half-hour later, both very tired. DeLong's new butler, a lean fellow named Joseph, greeted them at the door. He'd only been on staff for a year, but had already gained his employer's trust, and had quickly formed an alliance of sorts with Karen.

"Welcome back sir, madam," he said as they walked in. "Did you enjoy yourselves?"

"We did, Joseph," Lord DeLong said with a yawn. "I seem to have enjoyed myself a bit too much, so I shall now retire, and dread the headache that will come tomorrow. Good night Karen, Joseph."

They told him good night as he ascended the stairs towards his quarters. When he was out of earshot Karen leapt up and gave Joseph a great hug.

"Oh, thank you for convincing him, Joseph," she cried.

He laughed and patted her on the back.

"A young lady such as you should not be cooped up in a house such as this," he said heartily. "I hope that with everything that's happened, you were still able to enjoy yourself?"

"Of course," she replied. "I also met the most fascinating person."

"Tell me about it tomorrow, madam," he said, gently touching her arm and pointing her towards the stairs. "It is well after midnight, and I think you need sleep as much as the master does."

* * *

_It was the same dream she'd had ever since she'd arrived at the manor._

_She was standing, naked, in a large, grand hallway that was lined with pine wardrobes. In these wardrobes were the clothes she recognized from her past, from her dresses as a little girl to the pants and shirts she wore as a woman, they were all there, the glass doors of the wardrobes revealing them to her._

_At the end of the great hall was another wardrobe, this one made of dark oak, strong and powerful, it's knobs and handles made of solid iron, and it's doors of solid wood. The trimming depicted scenes of struggle and war, epic battles of heroes against villains and would-be tyrants. As in each of the prior dreams, she walked towards the wardrobe._

_When she was five feet away from the mysterious wardrobe, a great bird appeared in front of her. It was the color of fire, as high as the great ceiling, and the span of its wings filled the width of the hall. It stood there and stared at her, and burst into flame when she drew close to it. The flames formed a circle around it, filling the hall, and blocking her way to the unopened wardrobe._

_She shielded her eyes against the fire, and wondered how she would get around it. Even as she wondered the bird flared again in a sudden burst of noise and light, and then she was flying backwards down the hall, and the dream turned to darkness…_

* * *

"I'm telling you, Yori, it was _her_," Ron growled as they ran through the London streets. He'd recovered at the party, and had held his emotions in check throughout the rest of the night. Nakasumi-san had agreed that what had happened merited further investigation, but he agreed with Yori that they needed more information.

So it was, then, that Ron and Yori made their way towards the Panther-operated warehouse along the Thames. The party had ended an hour earlier, and they had quickly changed from eveningwear to their mission clothes.

Rufus they'd left asleep at the Embassy.

"You do realize what that would mean, Stoppable-san?"

"Yeah, it means that Lord DeLong is working for Panther, or maybe he's Concolor himself! So why are we going here instead of checking him out?"

"Because we promised Dr. Director that we would," Yori said reasonably. Ron muttered something that Yori didn't want to bother trying to make out, but then they were at the warehouse, and there was no more time for disagreement. Ron pointed towards an open window, and then winched himself and Yori up to it with the hairdryer. This warehouse, thankfully, was deserted, filled only with crates.

"Well, this is a nice change of pace," Ron said as he dropped from the windowsill to the floor.

"Be wary, Stoppable-san," Yori advised as she joined him. "I sense a trap."

"Right. But we might as well check the crates anyway."

They found a pair of crowbars and set to opening up the crates. The first few contained the usual stocks of rifles, hand grenades, and RPG units, but a few contained thermite charges and white phosphorus grenades. However, in the fifth box Ron opened, he found something that stopped him cold. In the box were a few pieces of equipment, but it mostly held blueprints. One, in fact, was a very familiar set of blueprints.

"Yori," he called out. "I think I've found it…"

"Found what, Stoppable-san?"

He looked at the blueprints of the mega-weather-generator that he, turned evil as Zorpox the Conqueror, had designed. There was only one person, besides him, who would have had access to these.

"Drakken's Legacy," he whispered, and then leapt aside as he perceived something flying through air towards him. He rolled across the ground as it impacted with the crate, the blow shattering the wood into many pieces.

The dark form of the Phoenix raised itself up from the wreck, and turned to face him. He entered into a fighting stance, and hoped that Yori could get to him before it moved again.

No, it was too fast, and the Phoenix attacked him again, each blow intended to be a fatal strike. Each blow he parried, for he found that knew the fighting style of the Phoenix intimately.

* * *

Yori watched them fight, wondering why Ron only blocked and turned the blows, but woud never riposte. His blocks and dodges were brilliant, almost precognitive to her eyes, but he never attacked. She tried to get into a position to join the fight, but they were moving too fast.

She watched the Phoenix leap at him again, intending to drive a foot through him. Ron grabbed its leg and turned its momentum to his advantage, throwing the Phoenix across the room. It twisted in midair and fired a grappling line at him, which wrapped around his wrists. Then the Phoenix planted its legs on the floor and stopped its flight. With a great tug it jerked Ron off his feet, swung him through the air and sent him crashing into a stack of boxes.

Yori took that moment to attack. The Phoenix dodged her first blow, a leaping attack, but that was a grandiose feint, and the real attack, a kick to the Phoenix's right side, connected and sent it crashing into another stack of crates.

It was up in flash, attacking Yori with a series of punches and kicks, each of which she dodged and returned with her own attacks. None of the attacks connected, and Yori gave ground until she was backed up against a large crate, and then the Phoenix reared its right arm back and aimed a punch at Yori's head.

At the last moment Yori twisted away, and the Phoenix embedded its right arm in the crate. Yori stepped away and regarded the Phoenix as it attempted to break free. After a moment, she nodded.

"So, you have finally learned how to kill," she said softly. Then the Phoenix was free, and attacking again, and Yori knew she was in trouble. It had become the ultimate killing machine, an elemental force of driven skill, but acting only on an instinct to fight, and now a learned ability to kill. There was no conscience, no morality restraining the blows, for the Phoenix was driven by another's will.

She could see multiple styles represented in its attacks, but she couldn't count how many there were, and it could use in the all in ruthless combinations. One of those got through her defenses, and connected with her chin. She flew up into the air and back, landing five feet away from where she'd been standing. She rolled over and looked up, only to see the Phoenix leap into the air and descend, its right fist poised to cave in her skull.

Then a line came through the air, and wrapped itself around the Phoenix's legs, and then Ron Stoppable used the Phoenix's own grapnel to haul it away. It crashed into the wall and fell stunned to the floor. It recovered quickly, but by then Ron and Yori were side by side, and providing a united front against it.

The Phoenix rose to its feet and faced them, ready to fight again, but the will that commanded it had other ideas. Ron and Yori heard what sounded like a man's voice coming from the right side of it's head, whispering an unknown command, and then the Phoenix retreatedout one of the windows. They did not pursue, knowing that it would be long gone by the time they got outside, and would not leave a trail.

Ron and Yori took deep breaths and looked at each other.

"The Phoenix," he said.

"Yes. It is very skilled," she replied. "I counted at least twelve different styles."

"Sixteen," he corrected, his voice going quiet.

"Stoppable-san?" she asked, confused.

He looked at the window it had used, a look of confusion and rising anger on his face.

"It knew sixteen different styles of kung-fu."

End Part 4


	5. The Soul of a Hero

"_You are now going through the hardest part of your service – not the hardest physically (though physical hardship will never trouble you again; you now have its measure), but the hardest spiritually…" - Colonel Dubois, 'Starship Troopers'_

"_Even in his anguish, he seems so alive." – Aaron Doral, 'Battlestar Galactica'_

Part 5: The Soul of a Hero

Chapter XIII: The Last Stage

"Stoppable-san?"

Ron knew that his reply had confused her, as the Phoenix _hadn't_ used sixteen different styles during the course of the fight. His own count was the same as hers: at least twelve, maybe one or two more. In all honesty, he had no rational basis for his statement.

Except that he'd been able to anticipate its moves.

The fighting styles, the way it stringed moves together in sequences and combos, were all factors that he recognized from having sparred with Kim. There were many who fought in a similar way, namely Shego, but its actions had been so _close_ to what hers had been.

'_Well, at least I know she's alive. Dunno which she is, but…'_

"But at least I know she's alive," he whispered aloud, and then turned to Yori. "Don't worry about it, Yori. I'll… explain when we get back. Right now, we need to finish here."

His voice sounded odd, as if there was something that he desperately wanted to distract himself from. His emotions were slowly catching up with what he suspsected had happened during the fight, and he didn't want to have to face that now. So he turned and began rooting through boxes.

"Of course, Stoppable-san," she agreed quietly, somehow suspecting what was on his mind. For the next few minutes they searched through the crates and boxes, finding a few more plans, some small arms and explosives, but little in terms of assembled technology.

Which wasn't surprising. Ron knew that most of Drakken's Legacy had taken the form of plans and designs, very few of which had actually been built before he'd scattered them to the four corners of the globe. Still, they had found a few assembled gadgets, including one that Ron recognized, and quickly stuck in his backpack.

The rest of the materials, the plans and the guns, they destroyed with the thermite charges.

* * *

"Stoppable-san, are you certain?" Yori asked. They were back at the embassy, and along with Ambassador Nakasumi were seated around a table in one of the briefing rooms. Ron had just finished explaining what he'd realized at the warehouse.

"As certain as I can be," Ron said tiredly. "Yori, you have to understand, I spent the past few years training with Kim, not to mention all the missions we'd had before. I know how she fights, and the Phoenix fought in almost_ exactly_ the same way."

"Almost?" Yori asked again

"The whole 'trying-to-kill-us' thing was, you know, a bit different…"

"Do you believe that it was Ms. Possible, Stoppable-kun?" Nakasumi asked.

Ron stared at his hands for a moment, uncertainty etched on his face.

"Yes, I do," he said finally. "At least, I think I do. I'd thought that… Karen… but now…"

He paused briefly, struggling to find the words.

"Now we've got one person who has Kim's voice and face and body, and another who has her skill, but none of _her_, and… and I just _don't now for sure what's going on_."

Ron punctuated the last statement by grabbing the sides of his head in frustration, and leaning his face towards the table. The last motion was to hide his eyes from the other two, as they were beginning to fill with tears. The dance with Karen, the fight with Phoenix, it was just too much for him to take in, and he was nearly overwhelmed.

Yori, of course, noticed them nonetheless. As well s the fact that he was contradicting himself.

"Stoppable-san," she said gently, "perhaps you should go to sleep. You have had a long day."

"What about you?"

"It will be our honor," she said, glancing at Nakasumi-san, "to plan while you rest. Please, Stoppable-san, go to bed."

Ron looked as if he was about to argue, but then the will to do so left him, and he simply shrugged and bid them goodnight, and then left the room. He was lost in his own thoughts, so he did not notice the concern in Yori's eyes as she watched him leave, nor did he see the look of guilt in Nakasumi's. Their eyes followed him as he left, and they remained silent for several moments after the door had closed.

"You should not have left him alone with the girl," Yori said, her voice kept neutral.

"I had no choice, Ms. Yori," Naksumi replied. "We could not let on to Lord DeLong our suspicions."

"But you see what it has done to him, Nakasumi-san!" Yori cried. "Just those few minutes are tearing him apart."

"I know, Ms. Yori," he replied sadly. "I owe my life and my position to him and Ms. Possible both, many times over, and if I could have spared him that, I would have. But, we have managed to confirm one thing."

"What?"

"I had his jacket examined after you left. Ms. Pellman left fingerprints."

"Readable?"

"We contacted Mr. Load in Germany," Nakasumi continued, "and he examined the results. Karen Pellman's fingerprints have been surgically altered and obscured."

* * *

Ron stumbled down the hallway, making his way towards his room in the embassy. With everything going through his mind, he had no idea how he was going to be able to sleep, but his body was tired enough that he knew he would find a way. The fight with Phoenix had drained him physically, and the new questions that fight raised had his mind running at breakneck speed.

_'Kim tried to kill me.'_

It was too much, and he was just too tired to process it all. He finally arrived at his room and didn't even bother changing before he collapsed face first on his bed. A moment later,the tears began flowing, and Ron Stoppable proceeded to cry himself to sleep.

Then he began to dream.

* * *

It was three days before they were able to make their move. Ron had wanted to charge into the DeLong estate the next morning, when Nakasumi had told him about the fingerprints, but was finally convinced that they needed time to strategize. So they gathered information and made plans. Wade had redirected a GJ satellite (this time with permission from Dr. Director) to observe the estate of Lord Richard DeLong. The thermal imaging had revealed a large underground complex beneath his holdings, and a brief reconnaissance mission by Yori had revealed an air vent that they could use for access.

More disturbingly, Nakasumi had compared DeLong's itinerary from his trip to Europe with the known locations of Concolor and Phoenix. They matched, perfectly. That and the fingerprints gave Ron something else to focus upon. It no longer mattered whether Kim was Karen, or Phoenix, or both; either way, she was in that state because Concolor had _made_ her that way.

On the afternoon of the third day, Ron reflected that he would soon fulfill his purpose in coming to Europe: he would face Concolor, and learn the truth, even if he had to_ beat _it out of him.

He had slept only fitfully, each attempt broken up by repeated dreams of that dark Parisian night. He wondered, even as he set about preparing his equipment, if he would ever stop reliving that deadly stroke. He feared he would not, but resolved that nightmares would be a small price to pay to be able to see Kim, the real Kim, again.

'_Resolved? When did I start thinking like that?'_

He shook his head and continued with his task. He was laying out his mission clothes on the bed in front him, carefully and even reverently, as an ancient samurai would have treated his armor and sword. Or, rather than a samurai, an English Knight of old, even as one from the Round Table of King Arthur, whose valor and resolve had been seen time and time again in the British people.

He had never done such a thing before; usually he would just throw on the clothes and hurry after Kim. But today, for this, he felt a certain degree of seriousness was in order. The shirt he laid at the head of the bed, unfolded, its sleeves outstretched by its side. At the ends of the sleeves he laid the gloves; at the bottom of the shirt he laid the cargo pants, belt, and shoes. As he placed each item in it's place, and stretched them out so there was neither fold nor crease along their surfaces, he could not help but remember the day that he and Kim had picked out the suits. They were still young, then, not yet in high school, but Ron had convinced her that they needed a trademark outfit.

Wisely, he'd left the design of the outfit up to her. Had it been up to him the uniforms would have been highly impractical, and have involved some sort of gaudy cape.

His remembrances ended and he stood there in the lonely room and survey the clothes, his armor, and thought back to every mission they'd been on, everything they'd done together while wearing those clothes. Their adventures, while wearing those clothes, had defined their lives. The adventures had brought them fame, but not fortune; allies, but also enemies; pain, but also love.

He removed his other clothes, the ones that were almost his personal trademark, stripping down to nothing but his boxers and socks. First he checked the bandages that covered his wounds from Paris, then he put on his mission clothes: pants first, then the shirt, then the shoes, then the belt, and finally the gloves. In the end, he had donned the visible part of the mark that Kim had placed upon his life.

But it wasn't the only mark that had been placed upon him. He'd begun the life of a hero as the goofy sidekick, but very little about him had been goofy lately. Since Kim had vanished, there hadn't been time for it; since Alfeld, there hadn't been much desire, on his part, for it. Her loss had changed him, at least for the moment, and Dr. Director had given him something to represent that change.

He walked over to his travel case and pulled out a gun holster. The upper edge attached to the side of his belt, and the lower end was secured against his thigh by a strap that was fixed just above his right knee. He then pulled from the case a Colt 1911 pistol. For a moment he just stared at it, thinking over just what had brought him to the point where he would carry a gun.

Then he banished all thought and placed the gun in the holster. Now was not the time for second thoughts; he'd do what he'd have to in order to find Kim again.

Now fully attired, he stepped out of the room and went to meet Yori. They had a job to do.

* * *

They'd arrived at the estate of Lord Richard DeLong well before sunset, so Ron and Yori spent the hours before nightfall huddled in the trees outside his property. They took advantage of the time to observe the security setup on the grounds. By the time night fell and the grounds were shrouded in darkness, they had obtained a working knowledge of the patrol patterns and locations of security cameras.

Twilight fell, the guard changed, and Ron and Yori departed the cover of the woods. They crept across the open field, using the darkening skies and the changing of the guard to disguise and hid their movements. They reached the vent after a few minutes, and confirmed that it was indeed wide enough to accommodate them. Yori quickly removed the grilling and then peered inside, illuminating it with a small penlight.

"It is not too deep, Stoppable-san," she said at last. "I believe we can use this to gain entrance."

She placed her hands on the side of the vent and was about to lift herself over the edge, but then Ron stopped her, and surprised her, by placing his right hand on hers.

"Yori…" he said quietly. "Just in case… I couldn't have made it this far without you. I… I just wanted to say… _arigato_."

They looked each other in the eyes.

"It was my honor, Stoppable-san," she replied with smile. He smiled and nodded back.

"Then it will be our honor to end this," he said at last. "Once and for all."

She nodded and then, one after the other, they raised themselves up over the edge and dropped into the blackness. They felt concealed and protected by the darkness, and believed that they had managed ingress without being discovered.

They did not know that they had been expected, and that many eyes had watched them from the moment they'd arrived on the property.

* * *

"Stoppable-san, I have found another grating."

They were crawling through the air vents, and had been doing so for nearly fifty feet.

"Great," he whispered, then passed the ronnunicator up to her. "There's some kind of optical sensor thingy on this; according to Wade it can fit through the grating."

Yori took the ronnunicator and quickly found the optical tendril. Of course, it wasn't solely an optical sensor; it also contained a miniaturized thermal and biometrical sensor suite, but just calling it an optical sensor took less time. In any case, Yori deployed the tendril through the grating, and watched the display on the ronnunicator's screen.

"We seem to be above the main area of the complex," she said at last. "No one is directly below us, though there are several people in the adjoining areas. However, I think we can enter here, if we are careful."

"Do it."

Yori retracted the tendril and passed the ronnunicator back to Ron. She then used a multi-tool to remove the grating, and carefully set it aside in the vent. She affixed a small anchor to the upper wall of the vent, and then used the line attached to it to lower herself to the floor. Ron followed suit, and then they were inside the Panther's lair.

* * *

Chapter XIV: The Darkest Corner

She was, at the moment, quite thoroughly confused. One minute Karen had been preparing to change into her pajamas, and then the next minute there was the sound of running feet outside her door. She stepped out of her room and made her way into the common area of the mansion, only to see a great many men that she did not know running around. They looked like they were preparing for an invasion of some sort.

She made her way down the stairs, intending to get some answers. She didn't get very far, as a hand quickly clamped around her mouth and drew her into a side room. The abductor waited for her to settle down, and then loosened his grip.

"Ms. Karen," Joseph the butler said quickly. "I need you to calm down and be quiet, okay?"

"Joseph," she hissed. "_What_ is going on?"

"It's too complicated to explain," he said, then grabbed her arm and started leading her somewhere else. "Just come with me, and you'll get the answers."

She could have resisted, but curiosity overcame her misgivings, and Karen Pellman let Joseph drag her along.

* * *

"What _is_ this place?" Ron asked aloud. He and Yori had wound up on opposite sides of the room, and Rufus had already climbed out of Ron's pocket and was poking around on his own. Not that there was much to poke around at.

The room itself seemed to be completely empty. The only features, aside from the flat walls, were a catwalk that covered the "front" wall and a third of the two sidewalls, and a series of protrusions along the remaining length of the sidewalls. Two stairs led from the floor to the ends the catwalk, and a door at the middle of the "front" wall seemed to be the only way in or out. There did appear to be a few discolored lines on the walls, but aside from that, the room was completely featureless.

Overhead was the ventilation system that they had used to get in, as well as a series of lights. The lights looked as if they were running at about half power, as the room seemed far too dimly lit for the probable wattage involved.

Yori was at the back of the room, examining the strange lines. Ron was as the front, looking up at the catwalk.

"Do you think we need to go up there?" he asked aloud.

"I do not see what else we can do," Yori replied.

"Actually," came a voice from nowhere, "the both of you have the option of raising your hands and surrendering."

Ron and Yori looked up in surprise, but then the lights flared to their full brightness, and the sudden increase in illumination forced them to squint and turn away. In that moment of distraction, several hidden doors, which had been disguised as part of the walls, appearing almost seamless, opened and disgorged a great many Panther Enforcers. Yori and Ron and found themselves surrounded and cut off from each other, and then another thirty Enforcers marched out the door and took up positions on the catwalk, ten to each section. There were only two Enforcers around Ron, so this group aimed their weapons at him, while the rest of the ground team covered Yori.

Ron and Yori traded a look; the situation was impossible, but at least they could go out fighting. They made ready for one last blaze of glory, and then the voice came again. This time, they recognized it.

"Ah, Mr. Stoppable," it said. "I see you understood the meaning behind my offer."

Another figure now stepped from the doorway onto the catwalk. He wore a one-piece purple jumpsuit, black gloves, and black boots. He was girded with a belt that strapped over his left shoulder, and a holster that was secured to his right leg. His face was concealed in shadow, but Ron and Yori recognized the voice.

Lord Richard DeLong. Concolor.

"Yeah, I got the offer," Ron confirmed. He _had_, in a way, understood DeLong's veiled statement from the reception. "I also understand the metric system."

The room became completely quiet (even Yori looked at him strangely), and then DeLong began to laugh.

"You are a most interesting person, Mr. Stoppable," Lord Richard DeLong, known as Concolor, replied as he stepped up to the railing. "Your ability to utilize a buffoonic _non sequiteur_ as a strangely brilliant rejoinder is unparalleled, and quite amusing.

"Please," he said teasingly. "Do not bother going for the gun, Mr. Stoppable. These men up here would shoot you at a moment's notice were you to draw on me. Besides, I doubt that killing me or getting yourself shot dead are among the reasons you came here, am I right?"

"Why don't you come down here, and we can talk about it?"

"Ah, boldness," DeLong replied, sounding almost pleased. He then allowed the shadows to leave his face, as there was no need to conceal his identity, and that aspect of the Art of the Haldamëoi required a degree of concentration to function. Then he turned and walked behind his men, heading towards the stairs on the right-hand side of the catwalk.

"Of course, I already know what you came here for, Mr. Stoppable. Heinrich told me in Spain, just a few weeks before he died. A pity, really; he may have been a self-possessed idiot with a fetish for loud noises, but he was useful, in his own way. Unfortunately, he wound up in a no-win scenario: I needed him to pass you just a little bit more information, but knew that he would be killed by my men if he did so. Ah, well, that is the good thing about useful idiots: one can always find more."

"Wait a minute," Ron interrupted, "you mean you _wanted_ us to find you?"

"Of course," DeLong said as he began to walk down the stairs. "We each have a great many roles to play in this drama, Mr. Stoppable. In my case, I am the villain, and the predator. In your case, you are the hero, and the prey. I believe it is considered couth for the villain to take the time to explain himself to the hero, and I am nothing if not couth; it is how a terrorist manages to survive undetected amongst Britain's elite. Therefore, then, I had to arrange a suitable meeting. The only surprise was in how long it took you to show up; I was expecting you two three days ago, after you ran afoul of my Phoenix.

"But enough of that," DeLong said as he walked past Ron. "If my earlier words, Mr. Stoppable, imparted to you any belief that I actually care why you are here, then I would ask you to please disabuse yourself of such a notion, for I care not about your motivations. This conversation is all about me, Mr. Stoppable, and soon the whole world will be all about _me_."

He then stopped talking, much to Ron and Yori's relief, and motioned to one of the Enforcers. That one then touched a control board he had strapped to his wrist, and there came the sudden whirring of machinery, and the hiss of escaping air, and the then protrusions opened and revealed their contents.

Synthodrones. Hundreds of them, encased inanimate within tubes of a clear fluid.

"Do you recognize them, Mr. Stoppable? They are copies of real people."

"No," Ron said slowly, "I can't say that I do."

"Of course you don't," DeLong explained. "Nor should you. Understand, Mr. Stoppable, that the synthodrone technology developed by Dr. Drakken, the technology that he used against you and Ms. Possible in the form of 'Erik', was an offshoot of his earlier cloning technology. Before you shut him down he had managed to combine his ability to produce a believable artificial personality with his ability create a genetically identical duplicate, thus allowing him, and now Panther, to produce a clone that is a perfect copy, both in genetics and in _personality_.

"These before you," he said grandly, "are copies of the doctors and dentists of the world's leaders. There, on your right and five down, is a clone of the personal physician to the President of the United States. Next to him is the dentist of the Australian Prime Minister, and so on and so forth. These are men who have close, personal contact with presidents and prime ministers, dictators and congressmen, tyrants and technocrats, generals and churchmen. These are men who have direct and unrestricted access to the DNA of your political leadership.

"At least, they will be once we replace the originals with these synthodrone copies. And then…"

"And then you will have access to the DNA of those in power," Yori said quietly, figuring it out. "Who will then be replaced with synthodrone copies loyal to you."

"Bravo, Ms. Yori. It will take time, of course; I will not be able to insert all of these replacements in a day, and it will undoubtedly be a few years before we are able to replace the heads of government, since a fully functional personality takes a while to develop. But I am a patient man, and I have all the time in the world. For the prize is worth it: the entire world bent solely to my will."

Yori suddenly shot forward, intending to strike at DeLong and end the whole thing, but she got no more than a few feet before one particularly burly guard grabbed her by the arms and stopped her cold.

"Please, Ms. Yori," DeLong said with a cold chuckle, "let's not do that again, yes? For the moment I wish to keep you alive, as I intend to create a synthodrone copy of you with which to infiltrate Yamanouchi, but I _will _have you shot if you try that again."

Yori struggled against the Enforcer's grip, but to no avail. DeLong simply laughed and then turned back to Ron, intending to continue with his monologue. Ron spoke first, though.

"'All the time in the world?'" Ron said incredulously. "Dude, you look like you're pushing fifty or something. I don't think you're going to live forever."

"Actually, I am fifty-eight," DeLong said lightly. "Chronologically, at least; my family has always appeared younger than our years. Tell me, have you ever heard of the 'juvenator'?"

"No…"

"It was an invention of Dr. Drakken's," DeLong explained. "I found the notes for it amongst the rest of his legacy. It seems he had teamed up with Lord Fiske and Duff Killigan to try and overcome yourself and Ms. Possible, utilizing some bizarre statue that worked on Mystical Monkey Power. Naturally, they were defeated, and the plan came to naught. However, Drakken had invented something called the 'juvenator' as part of this plan; of course, it was not used, and he wound up cannibalizing it for parts.

"The fool did not know what he had invented," DeLong said with a shake of his head. "The very secret to _immortality_ was there in his grasp. Not just immortality, which can be eternity as a dotard, if you believe Jonathan Swift, but the secret to _eternal youth_. With the juvenator I can become and remain not a day older than thirty. I will have everlasting life, youth, and virility, along with governments who will surrender their sovereignty to me as soon as I ask. Drakken had no idea what he had invented, what he had scattered to the four corners of the earth in his Legacy. If the man had been able to think strategically, before the end, then his devices would have allowed him to rule the world."

There was silence for a moment.

"You're nuts," Ron said after a time. "Dude, _nobody_ is just going to stand by and let their governments turn everything over to you. They'll stand up to you, and you _won't_ succeed."

"If you are referring to Global Justice, Mr. Stoppable, then I ask you to consider the case of Europe. Please, I know of Dr. Director's purge of my men there, but do remember the ease with which I gained control of that branch. If you are referring to your military, well, I will soon be able to make copies of most of your senior commanders, and the Legacy has equipment and plans that will enable me to deal with the rest. Personal shields, for instance, as well as mechanical armor and wide area death rays. Such a fight would only be a matter of time."

"Dude, I didn't mean them at all. There are six billion people on this planet; I doubt that they'll just roll over for ya, and I seriously doubt that Drakken invented enough firepower to kill them all."

"Ah, yes, the power of the People," DeLong said with a derisive snort. "How _American_ in concept. Yes, I am quite certain that a great many people in this world will try to stand against me. Nor do I doubt that many of them, in your country and even here in England, would be willing to fight me to the bitter end. Nonetheless…

"Nonetheless," he said coldly, "when I use the mega weather generator to withhold the rains from their farmland and flood their cities and towns, when they watch as their children die of hunger and are washed away in the flood, when they watch their infants cry out from thirst as they lie baking in the hot sun upon the parched earth, then I suspect that all fight will leave the heart of even the most valiant, and they will come and beg me for mercy.

"They will fight, and they will fail, and then the rest of the world, for love of their children, will become wholly _pacified_. The sentimentality of man shall used against them, and they will all submit to me, for none will able to bear the thought of what will happen if they do not."

Ron looked at him, remembering their first meeting. While he had originally thought the man somewhat stern, he had figured that there was a possibility of kindness. Now, he saw nothing but cruelty for cruelty's sake, and a desire for power simply for power's sake. One who would do such things, for such a small thing as domination of the world… it was made worse for Ron because he knew the true provenance of the mega weather generator.

He wanted to move, to attack the monster before him, but he was well aware of the rifles that were aimed in his direction.

"Sorry, man," he said with a shake of his head, suddenly remembering. "I just busted that idea a few days ago. We _burned down_ the warehouse that had the plans for the MWG."

"Oh please," DeLong replied. "Don't insult me like that, Mr. Stoppable. You burned up a _copy_ of the plans. Another resides in the computers here; still others reside in other storage facilities all over the world. The _originals_ are still _where I found them_, and I can recover them whenever I wish. Honestly, do you not think that the man who did away with Kim Possible would plan better than that?"

Ron's eyes narrowed, DeLong's invocation of Kim's name reminding him of his original purpose. DeLong smiled slyly.

"Of course, she _was_ your purpose in coming here, wasn't she? You want to know what really happened that night in America, don't you?"

He then saw the unconscious longing in Ron's eyes, and Richard DeLong laughed cruelly.

"Really, Mr. Stoppable, you should have waited. In another month or so I would have sent you a synthodrone version of Ms. Possible. A fake, of course, and programmed to turn on you when my plan came to fruition, but it would have looked the same, talked the same, acted the same,_ felt_ the same. Indeed, you would have been able to do whatever you wanted with her: date her, court her, marry her, _bed_ her.

"Indeed, with the last," DeLong said quietly with an evil leer, "though you wouldn't know it, I can _personally_ attest that the synthodrone would have felt _exactly_ the same as the original."

Ron did not reply to DeLong's statement, though he caught the implication. His face hid the rage that stirred in him, but only for a moment, for soon his features contorted in anger, and he lashed out at the guards to his left and right, blows from stiffened fingers collapsing their throats. As they fell to ground he whirled and drew the Colt 1911 that Dr. Director had given him, leveling it at Richard DeLong. At the same time, all the other guards, sans the ones restraining Yori, leveled their rifles at him, but held their fire at a signal from DeLong.

"I've made you angry, Mr. Stoppable?" DeLong said quietly, his arms outstretched at his side. "You want to shoot me?"

"Yes," Ron hissed through gritted teeth, his cheeks stained with sudden tears.

"Then why don't you?" DeLong asked quietly.

'_I should. After everything you've done…'_

'_And then what?'_ came another thought. '_You're here to find Kim, not to kill Concolor.'_

'_But, what he said…'_

'So, you're going to kill him because he's made you angry?'

'_I'd feel better.'_

'_Why did you come here? Churros? Bueno Nacho? Revenge? Everything thing you've done, everyone you've hurt, the man you killed, the people you've seen killed in front of you, all the nightmares and dreams, everything that's happened, has brought you here, to this moment, so you can find Kim. DeLong is the only one who knows what happened to her; he's your only chance to see her again, and will you throw that away just because you're angry?'_

'_So what do I do? This has to end.'_

'_Yes, it does. You need to channel your anger. Channel it into your fists and into your feet, the ways you know how to fight. Control your rage and wield it like a sword. Fight him, but do so on _your_ terms, not his.'_

Ron was still looking at DeLong, his hands shaking with anger, the options still warring within him. Then his face changed, becoming blank, almost peaceful, and his hand steadied. When there had been unbridled hate in his eyes, there came in its place something imperceptible. He sighted down the barrel, aiming the gun at DeLong's head.

Then he moved his finger off of the trigger, and depressed the thumb switch that ejected the magazine, which he kicked away before it hit the ground.

"So you can control your emotions," DeLong said. "So much the better."

"Whatever," Ron said lightly. "You know, I'd just as soon kill you as look at you, but the gat has never really been my style."

He bent towards the ground and set the gun on the floor. DeLong actually smiled.

"But I figure it's more yours," Ron continued as he straightened to his full height. "So, I've got a little challenge for ya. You, me, right here, right now. You win; you get to use the gun. I win…"

He shrugged.

"I win, you tell me _exactly_ what you did with Kim."

"Are you challenging me to a _fight_, Mr. Stoppable?" DeLong asked incredulously, and then laughed.

"Ah, Mr. Stoppable," he said with delight. "I cannot tell if you are again indulging in your customary buffoonery, or are simply audacious to a brobdingnagian degree. I will go with the later, for I prefer audacity in my opponents."

DeLong removed his own firearm from its holster and handed it off.

"You are indeed a worthy opponent, Mr. Stoppable," DeLong said as he adopted a fighting stance. "I will enjoy breaking you nearly as much as I did Ms. Possible, though obviously beating you _won't_ bring the same _side benefits_." He grinned maliciously as he finished that statement.

Ron ignored the attempt to bait him.

"Panther-dude," he said as he took his own stance, "you are goin' _down_."

* * *

Chapter XV: Dawn's Carriage

Ron felt a bit selfish, really, as he and DeLong faced each other. He knew that he should be doing this more for the sake of the world than for Kim, but… finding Kim required beating DeLong, which would accomplish the same object, no matter his motivation. Besides, after all they'd been through, maniacs proclaiming their intent to subjugate the world in brutal ways had become somewhat old-hat. While this particular plot was a bit more extreme than most, it still was just another conquer the world plan by a psycho. He was actually _used_ to that.

The ruthlessness of the plan had made him mad, but what DeLong had said about KP was what had pushed him over the brink.

Ron and DeLong sized each other up for a moment, letting their eyes and instincts gain them each a feel for their foe. Then DeLong chose to seize the initiative, and charged. Ron watched him draw near.

'_This guy took out KP,'_ he remembered. He could see that DeLong was moving with the speed and agility of a much younger man, probably having used some variant of the juvenator already. Ron watched and waited, readying his defense and trying hard to keep his fear in check.

DeLong drew closer.

'_I dunno if I can beat this guy… KP, I could really use your help now.'_

'_Ron, I love you. Never forget that, no matter what.' _The memory of her voice, those few words, came to him unbidden. He smiled at the memory of her voice, and closed his eyes to the approaching enemy.

She said that to him just after she'd kissed him, for what might have been the last time. Again he found himself in that moment, just before the attack on the warehouse. There was so much that he could have said, but that the moment and foresight hadn't allowed him to say. So much...

'_So long as you remember her, Stoppable-san, as she was in your life, she will never be gone.'_ He remembered Yori's words, spoken to him in Paris. Wise words, words that he now felt were intended for just this moment.

Then it seemed as if she was beside him again, one hand on his shoulder or around his arm, another simply brushing through his hair; her flaming hair ruslting in an unsourced wind, and her emerald eyes burning with the passion and fire he'd always admired in her. She smiled at him, and he felt his heart grow ready.

'_KP… you're in my heart; there, we'll always be together. So long as we're together...'_

He opened his eyes and _smirked_ at DeLong, who was now only three feet away from the gun.

'_We can do_ anything.'

Ron suddenly dropped to the ground, stretched out but not quite flat on his back. Somehow he managed through this move to actually propel himself across the floor, coming to a stop just in front of the gun. DeLong was in the process of reaching for the gun, apparently wishing to end the fight quickly instead of letting drag out.

Perhaps he had something better to do.

Ron's right foot kicked out and sent the gun skidding away, and then he brought his left leg up, planting his left foot in DeLong's stomach and then thrusting up and towards his head, changing DeLong's grab for the gun into a graceless dive towards the front wall. The older man sailed over Ron's head and then crashed into the wall, even as he did so Ron leapt to his feet and again put the gun between himself and DeLong.

DeLong picked himself up off the floor and popped his neck, giving Ron an appreciative look in the process.

"So you are serious."

"Note. Serious. Face."

* * *

For some reason, Joseph had seen fit to engage in some form of skullduggery as he pulled Karen towards wherever it was he was taking her. Admittedly she found all the sneaking around and hiding in shadows to be fun, even somewhat exciting, but she really wished that he would just tell her where they were going. She didn't ask, though, as he'd indicated that it would not be wise to speak, and if he wanted to be all secretive about it, then that was just fine with her.

Again he pressed her against a wall as several of the strange men (who seemed to have guns) walked past. He looked down the corridor, making sure it was absolutely clear, and then he pulled her three doors down and into the library, at which point he let her go and closed the door.

"And what was _that _all about?" she demanded as he walked towards one of the bookcases and began looking for something. "Joseph, just tell me what's going on. Who are those people? Where's Uncle Richard?"

"Hush, Ms. Karen," he said absently, still searching the bookshelf. Then he found what he was looking for, a copy of '_1984'_, and pulled it, not off the shelf, but rather at an angle. Then he stepped back, and Karen looked on in surprise as the shelf swung outward, revealing a dimly lit stairwell that angled downward.

"Ms. Karen, the answers you want are down that passageway. Go, now."

She looked at him in surprise, and then surprised herself by acting on his words and moving towards the stairs. She stopped at the edge of the door. It looked very dark down there, but was some light on the stairwell.

"Joseph…"

"Now, ma'am. Just trust me, please."

She nodded, swallowed hard, and then started down the stairs that led into darkness. When she had passed beyond his sight and earshot, Joseph moved the book back into place and let the door close. He leaned against the faux-bookcase and shuddered.

He'd seen Stoppable and the other girl entering the base, as had DeLong and everyone else. They'd all headed down, preparing for the confrontation, and DeLong had ordered Joseph to remain above, and keep Karen out of trouble. Instead, he sent her into trouble, for he'd recognized, as she walked down that staircase, his last chance to help undo what had been done.

"Okay, kid," he whispered, dropping his faked accent. "Now it's time for you to _see_… eh."

He walked out of the library, as if nothing had happened. He hadn't made it ten feet down the corridor when the butt end of a rifle smashed into the back of his head.

* * *

DeLong again made for the gun, and again Ron kept him away from it, this time with a simple trip instead of a flashy slide move. It worked all the same, for again DeLong skidded along the floor, finally realizing that there would be no quick end to the fight. So he changed tactics.

The Colt was forgotten as DeLong attacked Ron directly, aiming a pair of kicks, first right then left, at Ron's torso. Ron dodged the first kick and caught the second, holding the leg in place with his left arm and wrapping his right around the thigh, hoping to pop the hip joint. That didn't work, for DeLong flexed at his waist, braced himself on the floor with his hands, and kicked Ron in the head.

Ron let go of the leg and staggered back, shaking his head to clear it, giving DeLong just enough time to get to his feet. However it wasn't enough time for him to mount a defense, for Ron quickly recovered and launched to the attack, striking the man's abdomen twice with his fists and then delivering an uppercut to the chin.

DeLong replied by punching Ron in the mouth.

The fight continued along those lines, with the two combatants trading blow for blow and barely attempting to block the attacks of the other. Most of the time their defensive moves consisted of attacks that coincidentally moved them around the other's attack, their momentum, both angular and linear, carrying them past the other's blows.. They kicked and punched, grappled and threw, but the fight quickly became a stalemate, each contestant gaining many bruises and shedding even more blood, but neither could overcome.

Then Ron gained the mastery.

It happened quickly and unexpectedly. DeLong had aimed a kick for Ron's left kneecap, intending to shatter the patella, but Ron twisted away. The kick had upset DeLong's balance, so Ron had little trouble sweeping his legs out from under him and dropping the man to the floor. He went down hard, that time, the grace of the cat clearly out for lunch, and lay there for a moment, stunned.

In that moment Ron had swooped upon him and picked him up by the collar of his jumpsuit, which he grasped in his left hand. He held Richard DeLong, Concolor, murderer and terrorist, his _enemy_, in the air before him, his legs dangling. Ron began to draw his right arm back, cocking and stretching his muscles for maximum force. His shoulder reached the optimum angle and amount of strain, and then he clenched his right hand into a fist, causing the muscles on his forearm to bulge. Then he began the punch, his arm and fist flying forward, aimed straight at the side of DeLong's head. At the last moment he released DeLong, and let his waist twist into the punch and his feet carry him forward, adding just that much more force as he drove his fist into DeLong's head.

DeLong's feet never touched the ground. He flew through the air and slammed into a wall, and it was a long moment before he moved again.

"That… that's enough, Mr. Stoppable," he gasped. "I'll tell you what you want to know. In fact, I'll do one better. I'll give her back to you."

His heart leapt. Could it be true, was it finally over? Had he actually won?

'_KP, I guess I didn't loose you after all.'_

DeLong noted the hopeful tears that had sprung up in Ron's eyes. He said nothing, but got to his feet and headed towards a section of the wall. He'd built the facility for ease of concealment; all the equipment that the main room contained was housed in seamless recesses in the walls. One only had to know where to touch in order to open the bays, but there was enough wall space that it would be very hard for a random snooper to find anything.

DeLong knew where to look; he placed his right hand on a section of wall, and there came a hissing sound as a large drawer extended from the wall. He reached in, pulled out something, and then threw it at Ron's feet.

It was Kim's battle suit, burnt, torn, and bloodied.

"What… the _hell_…" Ron whispered, his face changing in the blink of an eye from hopefulness to something terrible and full of rage.

"I said I was going to give her back to you," DeLong replied. "That blood is all that remains."

Then the rage left his face, despair claimed him, and he dropped to his knees and gathered the suit up in his arms.

"KP…" he whispered, fighting back tears and not succeeding. Hope left him.

"So this is what it look likes when hope dies," he heard DeLong whisper. "I find that I do enjoy the sight of it."

There was the sound of footfalls, and then Ron felt the barrel of a gun pressing against his head. He looked up, knowing already what he was going to see.

DeLong had recovered the gun from the floor, and was now aiming it at Ron.

'Please,' he prayed desperately. 'I've not come this far just to fail.'

"Interesting weapon," DeLong said absently. "Colt .45, likely the ubiquitous pistol, yet I wonder how you obtained it here… ah, of course: the seal of Global Justice, along with their special transponder granting passage for any firearm through any airport in the world. I assume this was a gift from Dr. Director?"

Ron just looked at him, the despair in his eyes yielding to the dark angel in his heart. Hope had been what had held it back, now there was none, just a bloody rag of clothing that he grasped in his hands. He stared at DeLong in defiance; Kim was gone, be he could fight, still, and knew just how to do it, how to attack around the gun and tear Concolor limb from-

"Still you are defiant," DeLong said with wonder. "So much the better that you retain some spirit, for it makes the final end more satisfying, knowing that I have broken a truly worthy foe. However, while like unto the cats that I have named my organization after, I do so enjoy playing with my prey - did I not call myself the predator, earlier? - I am not without _some_ compassion.

"If it will ease your mind in your final moments, then know this. She never gave up fighting me. Even as I dragged her away from a burning warehouse and stuffed her in a car, even as she was bound and gagged and drugged and placed on my private jet and brought here, she never ceased to struggle. She was defiant and valiant to the end, Mr. Stoppable; even up to the point when I did away with her, in this very room, she never gave up hope.

"Of course," he added lightly, "what she hoped was that you would come in through that door there and save her. She never gave up on that, claiming it even as she ceased to be, and now here you are. A few weeks too late, of course, but here you are. No matter, really: even though I'd set up the nuclear weapon just to lure the two of you there and rid myself the danger of Kim Possible, she was just another nuisance to me."

"She was my _life_," Ron whispered defiantly, and look upon DeLong in anger, and prepared to spring.

DeLong simply smiled.

"Goodbye, Mr. Stoppable."

"_Uncle!"_ came a shocked cry from the catwalk. Ron and DeLong both looked up, and saw young Karen looking down at them, her eyes widened in shock and fear.

In that moment something awoke in Ron, something he'd thought was dead. It came from the lower most recesses of his heart, it bubbled up like an overflowing and endless flood, and then the broken pieces of his hope compelled him to speak. There was no logic, no rational reasoning involved. He simply saw, and hoped, and believed.

"_KP!_" he cried, the words coming of their own volition and without conscious effort. "_Help, sidekick in trouble! KP, help!_"

Karen gasped.

DeLong simply laughed. He didn't know how she'd gotten down there, but he would make the best of it, and shoot Joseph later.

"Ah, this has worked better than I'd hoped," he said loudly. "Please, Mr. Stoppable, don't even bother. She's gone from you, and _you cannot undo what has been done_. But now… I won't kill you."

He smiled evilly.

"I'll let _her_ do it instead. Phoenix," he ordered, "_awake_."

She did not hear him.

* * *

_Why here, why now? _

_The dream came to her again, as she'd stared at the terrible sight of her uncle holding a gun to the head of the young man from the dance. That young man, Ron Stoppable, had called out to her with words that she didn't understand, but they had drawn her back to the corridor._

_She was again denuded, again amongst the wardrobes, only now she could see them better. The pine did not appear to be the original woodwork; instead it now looked like panels that had been affixed to the original structure. After a moment, though, she gave them no further mind, and set off towards the grander wardrobe, as always._

Again, as always, the great bird appeared in front of her, the flames it brought denying her access to the wardrobe.

_This time, though, there were two differences. The first was in the eyes of the bird. In earlier times they had been natural, almost kind. Now they were nothing but black coals, and regarded her with unabashed malice._

_The second change was this: Ron Stoppable was standing within the fire. He looked out at her and smiled._

"_KP."_

"_Why are you calling me that?"_

"_It's who you are. Please, KP, there isn't much time. Come here."_

_She looked at him as if he were crazy. Come to him? Walk through the flames?_

"_Are you crazy? I can't walk through fire, I'll get burned."_

"_KP, don't you remember? You're the girl who can do anything."_

"_Not walk through fire!"_

_She hugged her arms around her, not so much to cover herself but to protected her body from the heat. The bird would flare again, and then the dream would end and she would wake up…_

_Ron simply reached out towards her with his right hand._

"_KP… I'll help you, then. Together, we can do anything. Even walk through fire."_

_She did not know why she believed him. For whatever reason, as she stared at his dream form, she reached out and took his hand and let him pull her to him, into an embrace within the flames._

_Then the bird gave a great cry, and there was no more fire and no more heat, just a pile of ash lying in the corridor. She looked up at the figure of Ron Stoppable, who smiled at her with love._

"_Who are you?" she asked._

"_A memory," he said, then dissolved into mist and reappeared behind her. "Go to the wardrobe."_

_She'd never gotten this close before, and now she could pick out the detail on the paneling. There were carved images of a girl and a boy engaged in combat with many foes: another girl, a man with a scar, a Scotsman armed with golf clubs, and a man who looked like a monkey, among others. At the top of the wardrobe, at its very crest, was a sigil formed of a stylized and entwined K and P. _

_The doors had no glass, they were all oak, and so she could not see inside. She tried the handle, and the door easily opened._

_The other wardrobes had been packed full of clothes, yet this one contained but a single set. A sleeved black crop top, olive cargo pants, gray gloves, a utility belt, and sneakers were all hung upon a single improbable looking hangar. She turned and looked at Ron quizzically._

"_Put them on," he said with a smile. She reached into the wardrobe and pulled the hangar off the rack._

_It dissolved into many tiny lights, which swirled around her. Then the lights coalesced, and the clothes were on her, and she was no longer naked. Light was streaming from the wardrobe, surrounding her and filling the corridor; the ashes of the phoenix were swept away by the light, and the false paneling from the other wardrobes fell away, revealing other engravings like the ones on the grand wardrobe, again with the same boy and girl._

_Then she knew, and remembered, and_ saw; _and the young woman stepped forward into the light, and the dream ended._

* * *

A soul cannot be destroyed, at least not by the devices of man. It can be masked, or walled off from the centers of memory, either by the actions of man or by accidental damage to the brain. Memories can be lost and the surface personality changed, but the soul always remains, for it is eternal. Many forget this simple, basic truth.

The masks that are placed on the soul can take many forms. Like cheap Halloween masks they can be obvious and ill fitting, held on by only a tiny piece of string. Other, more sophisticated masks, mimic the form and shape of the soul on their inner edge, but the outer surface is designed to hide, or even render grotesque, the underlying features. The best masks, though, not only mimic the contours of the soul on the inside, but also partially mimic them on the outside, thus hiding the underlying person in a manner worthy of Poe.

These masks are the best because, with such fidelity to the underlying features, they are easy to secure to the person, and thusly can maintain the masquerade throughout ever-harsher conditions, even as they hide in plain sight. Sometimes more than one mask must be used, each designed to highlight and hide different aspects of the person. These masks are tricky to uncover, for their mutable nature renders them hard to track. A person covered in multiple masks can be sweet and kind one moment, and then turn into a killing automaton the next, all at the command and wish of the one who placed the mask.

Yet, though it all, the soul remains, and no binding material is ever permanent.

The reason for the above ruminations is simply this: a soul can only be masked, never destroyed.

And a mask can _always_ come off.

* * *

The firebird leapt from the catwalk and flipped in the air, landing in a crouch between Ron and DeLong. Ron got to his feet, intending to defend himself for as long as possible, but knowing that he would ultimately fail, for there was no way he could bring himself to hurt her. Not with that face, those eyes, green as grass, which were even now looking at him… almost as they always had.

The firebird attacked twice in rapid succession, first with a simple straight kick and then with a roundhouse kick. Her first attack knocked the gun from Lord Richard DeLong's hand; her second attack connected with his head and knocked the man across the room. She ended facing him, at a ready stance, her breathing deep and enraged.

"Karen… Phoenix!" he cried in shock

"My _name_," the firebird growled, at last in her right mind, "is _Kim Possible_."

End Part 5


	6. Getting Back Up

"Utúlie'n aurë! Aiya Eldalië ar Atanatári, utúlie'n aurë! _The day has come! Behold, people of the Eldar and Fathers of Men, the day has come!" - Of the Fifth Battle: Nirnaeth Arnoediad, the Silmarillion._

Part 6: Getting Back Up

Chapter XVI: Night's End

When one thinks of a tower, one would tend to picture a structure of glass, steel, and concrete. If one were old fashioned, then the tower would consist of stone blocks and mortar, or even joined pillars of wood. Very few people, when asked to picture a tower, would conjure up the image of a girl thought dead, who was wearing a pink shirt and tan pants, standing between the enemy who'd tried to erase her and the lover who'd quested to save her.

Yet there stood Kim Possible, her mind and soul restored to each other, as like unto a tower of defiance as any construct of steel and concrete.

She was still poised to strike, examining DeLong with murder in her eyes. Ron was behind her and to her right, his face one of triumph as he stared at his fallen foe. DeLong himself was attempting to get to his feet, his face calm, but his eyes showed something that they had never shown before: fear. For the first time in his machinations, things were really and truly not going to plan.

A hush fell, and the room was silent.

"How?" DeLong hissed as he stood. "I did away with you myself. You were supposed to be _gone_."

"No, you just walled me off," Kim said darkly. "I've been here the whole time, trying to get out, but it took my Ron to call me back."

"Boo-yah," Ron whispered behind her, causing Kim to smile.

"Oh, did I also mention," Kim continued, "that I remember _everything_?"

"Kill them!" DeLong cried suddenly. "Shoot them now!"

The Panther Enforcers aimed their guns at Kim and Ron, intending to end it with the first volley. Kim tensed, preparing to spring and at least try and continue the fight… but then Ron wrapped an arm around her waist, and he pulled her towards him. At the same time his left hand found a pouch on his belt, and even as he heard the crack of the first rounds firing, his fingers depressed an activation switch.

A golden cylinder sprung up around them, and the bullets sparked as they impacted and ricocheted off the shield.

Kim turned and looked at Ron quizzically. He smiled at her, though his smile was pained.

"One of Drakken's shield devices," he explained. "Found it in that warehouse, figured it might come in handy."

She looked at him, and saw that he'd taken quite a beating. One eye was discolored and swollen; bruises marked the rest of his face; a small rivulet of blood flowed from a corner of his mouth; his shirt was shredded and torn, showing new wounds and bandages from older ones; she could feel, as her body pressed against his, a warm wet spot on his abdomen. It worried her, but did not hold her attention; his face was what did that.

Beyond the bruises, past the blood and black eye, was a face that looked like it beheld Heaven itself.

She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him; he reciprocated, wrapping his own arms around her body, and holding her so tightly that she felt he would crush her.

She leaned away from him after a moment, and then lightly kissed him, enjoying the taste and feel of his lips against hers, not so much enjoying the blood that was covering them. Then the kiss ended, and she rested her head on his shoulder, and smiled even as the shield held the bullets back.

"You came back for me," she whispered.

"I always do," he replied. "Uh, KP?"

She knew what he was going to ask, for she too knew about the synthodrones.

"Don't worry Ron, it's really me. Besides," she whispered sweetly, "you still owe me dessert."

* * *

Joseph groaned and awakened, not really surprised to find that his hands were tied and that he was lying on the foyer floor. What did surprise him was the sight of a Panther Enforcer, doubtlessly the one who'd clubbed him, actually taking the time to stand guard over him.

"Good, you're awake," the guard said when he noticed him move. "Care to tell me what you were doing in there, butler?"

"I'm not really a butler, kid. Name's Joe, RCMP Espionage Division, eh."

The Enforcer looked at him in anger, his eyes growing wide.

"As to what I was doing," Joe said with a smirk, "lets just say that my year here has finally come to fruition, and I've set something in motion, something that you can't stop."

The guard took a moment to digest that, and then he smiled cruelly. Though he hadn't called ahead for orders, DeLong had said that they could shoot on sight anyone who came didn't need to be there. With the revelation that he was in fact a deep-cover Canadian spy, the Enforcer decided that Joe no longer needed to be there.

He pressed his rifle to the side of Joe's head.

"Maybe," he said quietly, "but at least I can make sure that you're not around to see the result."

He smiled evilly; it was the last expression his face would ever make, for a shuriken suddenly became embedded in his temple.

* * *

Rufus had hidden behind one of the protrusions, and had watched the confrontation with DeLong from that position. He'd wanted to help Ron out, of course, but there wasn't much that a naked mole rat could do. Instead he'd scurried around, out of sight and out of mind, letting the distraction of the fight conceal him, looking for a place where he could jump in and help. Kim's return, and the ensuing shooting contest, meant that he was also dodging hot brass as he scurried around.

Then he came to the minion that was holding Yori, her arms outstretched and clamped fast in his. She was held cruciform, yet struggling to get free, but the Enforcer looked uncommonly strong.

It also had an uncommon smell, one that Rufus had only smelled a few times before.

The first time had been when he and Ron had met Erik. At the time he'd thought it to be the smell of some bizarre cologne.

Rufus scurried up the right foot of the synthodrone holding Yori, found the sweet spot, and bit.

* * *

Yori had attempted to break free ever since the fight started. She had felt no small measure of pride when Ron had put the gun down and challenged DeLong on his own terms, and though she'd worried for him as they'd dueled, she had cheered inwardly when it had seemed that Ron had won.

Now, though she could see that Ron and Kim were protected by the shield, she knew that it's power supply had to be small, and couldn't last forever. She had to get free and try to help, or else her friends would die.

Then there came the sound of a flowing, thick liquid, and she felt the Enforcer collapse around her. Then she was free, and dropped to the ground, barely missing the puddle of green ooze. Her hands went to her own belt even as her feet clacked against the hard floor, and as she stood up she let fly a dectet of shuriken. They soared through the air and sliced across the necks of the ten gunners on the middle section of the catwalk, cutting them down; half fell spurting crimson streams of blood from severed arteries, the other half fell expelling green slime.

Yori did not notice this, for as soon as the shuriken had left her fingers she attacked the Enforcer to her right, leaping into the air and repeatedly driving her feet into his chest. She then planted a foot on his face and kicked off, flipping through the air even as he fell, and landed next to the Enforcer that had been to her left. She ducked low and spun clockwise, sweeping his legs out from under him. She finished her rotation well before he hit the ground, and then she stood and kicked his back, her foot connecting at his center of mass and knocking him higher in the air. Then she spun again, this time leaping instead of ducking, and drove a kick into his ribs, knocking the man into a pair of his companions.

Then Yori charged amongst those who had surrounded her, kicking and fighting, and they could no longer shoot, but could only try to defend against her.

* * *

Ron was still laughing, despite his worries regarding the shield's power supply, about Kim's dessert remark (he'd long forgotten the cake they'd left behind in her apartment) when he saw the shuriken fly overhead. He became far less worried when he watched the entire middle section of gunners collapse, and the rest of his worries faded when he saw what happened thereafter.

Joe the Canadian, pistol in hand, came rushing out of the entrance. Behind him was Ryo, who leapt off of the catwalk, drawing his twin katana in the same motion, and rushed forward to aid his teacher; and Seiji, no-dachi in hand, ready to cut down his foes with the greatsword; and Shin, bearing a slender trident. They engaged the remaining enemy on the catwalk, and then there was no more fire coming towards Ron and Kim.

Yori, the night after they'd faced Phoenix, had called Hameln and made a few arrangements of her own.

He deactivated the shield, and then looked past Kim at DeLong. Their enemy hadn't gone for his gun; instead he seemed to be just starring at them, regarding them with what looked like respect.

"Hey, KP… it seems like this guy wants to take over the world."

"That he does, Ron," KP replied with an angry smile, and turned to face DeLong. "I guess we'd better stop him, then."

"I seem to have grossly underestimated the two of you," DeLong said quietly. "But I warn you not to underestimate me. I have beaten the both of you, after all."

"Dude," Ron said in reply, as he and Kim began to position themselves to fight, "you fought us one at a time. Now, you get both of us together."

Then they charged. DeLong found himself amazed as he watched them, for they moved as one. One wore their mission clothes: torn, damaged, bloodied, but still working, still holding together. The other was dressed as a civilian, outwardly pristine and utterly unscathed. Yet they moved as one. Their experiences over the past three weeks could not have been more different, and yet still they moved as one, with a degree of coordination that must have taken them years to develop.

He found himself marveling, for this was utterly unlike the stories he'd heard through the grapevine of Drakken's former employees. Those stories had generally involved Possible doing the fighting and Stoppable either distracting the bad guy or just trying not to get hurt. Then they were upon him, and his ruminations ceased before the necessity of concentration on defense.

Ron had been right; it was a different battle. No sooner would DeLong dodge or parry an attack from one than an attack from the other would come, and he would have to parry or dodge that one as well. But parry and dodge them he did; yet he was expending far more energy than they, and he knew that he would not be able to keep up the tempo, and would soon fail.

Stoppable had been right: fighting them both at the same time was losing battle. There was, quite simply, no way he could win unless he could separate his opponents. He had to split them up, and just needed to find an opportune moment in which to do so.

At one point he had Ron on his right and Kim on his left, and then he didn't even bother trying to defend, he simply punched out to his sides with both hands. The blows were aimed well, all things considered, but Ron and Kim were fast enough to evade them. They leapt away, and with a series of flips came to rest on their feet, side by side, standing in front him. They stopped attacking then, and motioned for him to come to them.

DeLong obliged. He didn't see a real opening, but he decided to try and make his own.

He charged them and then stopped in front of them, spinning clockwise on his left leg, and driving his right heel towards Kim's head. Ron turned towards Kim and cupped his hands; she planted one foot into his hands and he boosted her into the air, the attack passing beneath her feet. Ron then ducked, causing DeLong's kick to pass over his head, then he planted his hands on the ground and tossed his legs and body in the air, supporting himself with his arms, and scissored DeLong's right leg in his own. He then twisted at the hips and waist, which threw DeLong off balance and sent him crashing to the ground.

DeLong immediately rolled away, which was wise, for Kim dropped from above and drove her fist towards where his head had been. He quickly regained his footing, just in time to see Kim and Ron both charging him, again from his left and right sides. That is to say, he saw them when they were only two feet away from him, and about to strike.

Then Kim's hair, its length ever a danger, fell over into her eyes. For a second she was distracted, and blinded, and in that he saw his opportune moment.

He drove an elbow into Ron's gut, digging in deep against the newly re-opened bullet wound. Ron's eyes bulged in pain, and his attack skidded to a halt, but then his eyes shut when DeLong levered his arm upward and knocked his elbow against Ron's chin, sending him skittering backwards. At the same time DeLong kicked Kim in the chest, knocking her away from him. She hit a wall and crumpled.

He turned to face Ron again, and saw that the blond man was standing his ground, but only just: he was staggering from both the chin blow and the pain in his abdomen. Then Ron looked at Kim, and saw that she wasn't moving.

DeLong was not sure, but he thought he saw the image of a winged being reflected in Ron's eyes.

"_KP!"_

With that cry Ron straightened, and either the pain left him or he chose to ignore it. His face contorted with rage and he charged at DeLong. When he had enough speed he leapt off the ground, arcing through the air, his right leg held tense and ready to lash out towards Delong's head.

The attack was quickly sidestepped, and DeLong grabbed him by the ankle and then spun, redirecting Ron's momentum and flinging him into the wall. He landed a few feet from Kim's unmoving form. Slowly he returned to his feet, his stance unsteady, his hand clutching his wounded side, and pain again written across his face.

DeLong sought to increase that pain, and he moved faster than their earlier fight had indicated, and struck at Ron. Ron put up a good fight, and parried the first few blows, but then DeLong struck his wound again, causing him to stagger, and then he grasped Ron's shirt and lifted him off the ground.

They didn't taunt each other, they didn't banter; Ron simply glared and DeLong proceeded to punch his wound again and again. Ron grimaced with each blow, his hands grappling with the one that was clamped on his shirt. DeLong, for his part, looked almost feral.

DeLong readied for another punch, this one aimed at Ron's head. He didn't get to deliver it, for Kim was moving again, and she delivered her own blow to the base of DeLong's skull. He dropped Ron, who managed to land on his feet, despite the pain. DeLong tried to turn and fight, but Kim was upon him, and she dragged him away from Ron, and flung him against one of the walls.

Then she had him by the throat, her left hand clamped against his windpipe, her right prepared to strike.

"Well played, Ms. Possible," he croaked out. "Using your lover as a distraction, very ruthless; I do love it."

"Shut up," she growled. Her arm quivered with restrained energy, and tears were beginning to flow from her eyes.

"Do you plan to kill me, Ms. Possible?"

"You taught me how, remember?" she said.

Her eyes became wild, and her fingers stiffened, and her arm made ready to deliver the blow. Then Ron was at her back, and he held her arm in place with his right hand, and his left arm slipped around her waist and pulled her close to him.

"KP, don't. He's not worth it, KP, he's not worth what it'll do to you."

"Let me go, Ron," she cried. "I ought to, after what he did to me… after what he did to _you_…"

"To him?" DeLong questioned with a laugh.

"To _me_?" Ron asked.

"Ron, when I was Karen… and Phoenix… I could see and hear everything. I remember your face that night at the Palace, and your face as we fought in the warehouse… Ron, I remember the look on your face when you realized that Karen was _me_, the sound of your voice out there on the balcony... He meant to hurt you like that; he left me there just to taunt you."

She was crying as she spoke.

"KP…"

"How precious," DeLong mocked. "Of course I left you there to taunt him, Ms. Possible. Cats enjoy playing with their prey, and I happen to greatly enjoy causing people _anguish_. I am a cruel man, Ms. Possible… but please, don't hate me for what I am."

She struggled against Ron, trying to get free of his grip and strike DeLong down, but Ron did not let her go.

"KP… no, don't. Listen… listen to me, Kim. He's not worth it, okay; he's not…. KP!"

She stopped struggling at his shout, but Ron continued speaking.

"He's _not_ worth having to remember this for the rest of your life, alright? Trust me, I know. _Let it go_."

She relented, and let her arm fall to her side, and she released DeLong, allowing him to settle to the ground. She turned and rested her head against Ron's chest as he released her arm. DeLong tried to scoot past them.

Ron's right arm shot out like a rocket and his hand clamped around DeLong's throat, and Ron literally dragged him across the floor and slammed him into the wall.

Where Kim's face had been wild, Ron's was furious.

"I'm not through with you yet."

"After that speech about my not being worth it," DeLong gasped out, "you plan to kill me yourself?"

"Don't misunderstand me," Ron growled, his voice utterly serious. "I agree with her. The only reason I told her that you weren't worth it was because I don't want her to have to go through the hell of knowing she killed another person.

"I've already walked through that hell. I've already had the sleepless nights that are filled with nightmares of the kill. I've been through the hell of loosing her; of questing to find her, of knowing that I had to kill just get close to her again. But ya know something, DeLong?

"I'd go through all of that again, willingly, if that would spare her just one sleepless night. I'd put myself in that hell again, if it means that she doesn't have to."

"So why don't you," DeLong whispered. "I would, were I you. If I had you here, I'd kill you without a second thought."

Ron paused, and looked at him, his eyes full of rage. Yet he did not tighten his grip.

"Not going to, Mr. Stoppable? Why not?" DeLong said condescendingly. "Too squeamish for it?"

Ron's eyes flashed, and the dark angel whispered to him again, telling him to kill. Ron told it to shut up. It, as DeLong had, asked why.

"Because I…" he cried in answer, both to DeLong and to his anger. As he cried, he slammed DeLong against the wall.

"… am _better_…" Slam.

"… _than YOU!_" He slammed DeLong one last time, and then held him there, pinned between his hand and the hard metal.

"Really, Mr. Stoppable?" DeLong gasped out. "We're cut from the same cloth, you and I. Haven't you gathered by now that we each have the same capacity for evil, the same ability to end life? All that differentiates you from I is the nature of our passions, and how far we are willing to go for their object. In the end, really, the only difference between us is one of degree, and not one of true substance."

Ron thought about that for a moment.

"Maybe," he said at last, "but that's good enough for me.

"Congratulations, Concolor. You get to live today, 'cause I ain't gonna kill someone who's not a threat to me anymore; that's the big difference between us. You kill for the sake of killing, I don't.

"You're beaten, I've _won_, and I'll just leave you here and let Global Justice pickup the pieces."

He released DeLong, and let him fall to the ground. Then Ron turned away, turned his back upon his enemy, and started to walk off, guiding Kim away. The dark angel was gone; as Yori had assured him at Alfeld, his heart had proved strong enough, and he now wielded his anger, as one wielded a sword, and was not in turn wielded by it.

The other battles had already ended, and the room had fallen silent aside from the sound of that final confrontation. Joe, Shin, and Seiji were descending the stairs, while Ryo and Yori stood in the midst of their fallen enemies, and Rufus stood upon Yori's shoulder, looking overjoyed. Kim and Ron faced her, and Yori smiled at them both, and then she and Ryo bowed in honor.

Then, from behind him, Ron heard the sound of a blade being drawn from a sheath, and then there came a whisper of movement, and look of warning crossed Yori's features. DeLong had risen to his feet, and had drawn a concealed knife, and lunged at Kim and Ron.

Ron twisted slightly, placing himself fully between DeLong and Kim. He did not turn to look, for he could hear DeLong's approach, and knew that he was about to strike.

Then he felled DeLong with a sucker punch.

Blood poured from the man's shattered nose, and his head snapped back. He seemed to hang in the air for a long moment, and then the knife slipped from his nerveless grasp, and he collapsed to the floor and lay there, twitching. His head was inclined back at an impossible angle, evidence of a fractured cervical vertebra; either that would strangle him, or he would drown in his own blood. Now Ron did turn his head to look at his fallen adversary, and his countenance was terrible to behold. Though he tried to stop her, Kim also turned to observe the death of Richard DeLong; though she did not wish to, she felt that she needed to.

"How you have fallen from heaven," Ron said at last, quoting from Isaiah, "O star of the morning, son of the dawn. You have been cut down to the earth, you who have weakened the nations. But you said in your heart 'I will ascend to heaven; I will raise my throne above the stars of God, and I will sit on the mount of assembly in the recesses of the north. I will ascend above the heights of the clouds; I will make myself like the Most High.' Nevertheless you will be thrust down to Sheol, to the recesses of the pit. Those who see you will gaze at you, they will ponder over you saying, 'Is this the man who made the earth tremble, who shook kingdoms, who made the world like a wilderness and overthrew its cities, who did not allow his prisoners to go home?'"

Then he shook his head, turned around, and walked away.

* * *

DeLong passed soon afterwards; he had been mouthing something as he died, though no words came out, and none of them were able to make out what he had tried to say. Shortly thereafter a unit of the SAS had stormed the estate, accompanied by Wade. He had left Hameln for London as soon as Ron and Yori had entered the underground facility, for he had lost contact with their tracking signals at that time, as there was some form of jamming field in effect over much of the estate. That same field was also why Joe had been out of contact the Canadian government for a full year, and why he hadn't been able to inform anyone of who DeLong was.

During the course of the underground fight, the ninja known as Hashiba Touma had managed to locate the central computer. DeLong had kept the terminals for that in the upper house, and Touma was able to secure them before anyone could get in and erase the data. Wade had brought a small Global Justice hacker team, just in case, as well as a team of field medics, and they quickly went to work on the system.

He had also, upon seeing Kim again, nearly crushed her with an exuberant hug.

The medics had set up shop in the courtyard, and they rushed the ninja, Kim, and Ron, to separate tents. Ron took the longest, as the medic had to re-stitch his bullet wound, as well as change the dressings on the other wounds and bandage the fresh ones. Kim herself endured a long debriefing; as the Phoenix she had been privy to many of DeLong's secrets, and Global Justice needed her to divulge that information. The debriefing finished around midnight, London time, and Kim walked out of her tent and headed towards the one that held Ron. She wasn't really surprised to see Yori coming out of it.

"I trust you are well, Possible-san?" Yori asked.

"I'll have a few decent sized bruises, and should be pretty sore tomorrow, but no big," Kim replied. "How about you?"

"I seem to be, how do you say it, in one piece."

"Yeah, that sounds about right," Kim replied, sounding strangely nervous. So was Yori; the last time they had met, Kim had suspected her of working with Monkey Fist.

Then Kim surprised Yori by walking up to her and throwing her arms around the Japanese girl's neck. She quickly recovered from her surprise and returned the hug.

"Thank you for keeping him safe," Kim whispered, her voice full of gratitude, "and for helping him find me."

"It was my honor."

Kim pulled away and nodded, then looked towards the ground.

"Listen, Yori… I… I'm sorry about the boy in Paris…"

"His name was Shuu Rei Fuan, Possible-san," Yori said gently. "And you are not to blame for his death. There was nothing you could have done."

"How can you be so sure of that?" Kim asked, fighting back tears of guilt.

"Because if you could have done something, you would have," Yori replied. "The guilt lies with men who are now dead, Possible-san. Let us not speak of it again, except to remember the fallen."

"Shuu Rei Fuan," Kim whispered. "Yes, I'll remember him."

"Good," Yori said with a bow, and then gestured towards the tent. "Go inside, Possible-san. He is waiting for you there."

Kim nodded and walked into the tent. Ron was lying there on a cot, wearing a fresh shirt that covered the wounds and bandages on his torso. His black eye was already healing, the fruits of GJ's medical technology. He looked up at her, and smiled as she walked over to him.

"Hey, KP," he said, his eyes brightening. There was so much that she wanted to say to him, but she found that words would not come. Instead her view of him blurred, and she barely saw him sit up as she stumbled towards him and laid her head on his shoulder. She began to cry, the contents of her heart only able to find release in that action, and he rested his chin on her head, and stroked her hair, and whispered sweet and comforting words to her.

The tears ran their course, and she lifted up her head and looked at him. He was so unlike the animal that she had been with for the past month, gentle in face and action, yet exceedingly fierce when he had to be.

"Ron, I need to tell you something," she said, tearing up again.

She didn't even know why it was important that he know; in fact, she hadn't even wanted to tell him at all. But after his speech in the estate, she knew that she had to be completely honest with him about what had been done to her. A part of her feared that he would reject her, and leave her; utterly irrational of course, but there it was.

"KP, what is it?" he said, his voice concerned, his mind suspecting what she was about to say. He hadn't known if DeLong had been baiting him or telling the truth, but now…

"When… when he brought me here," Kim started, but her voice quickly choked, and she could do little than say a few disjointed phrases. "He… I tried to fight him, Ron, I really did, but he'd injected me with something, and I couldn't… and then he… he… and I was saving myself for you, but…"

She was crying again. Curses of damnation poured into Ron's head, but he quickly drove them out; now was not the time, and there was no point in cursing one who was already dead. However, he did know then, that despite the gruesomeness of it, he would suffer no nightmares from the death of Richard DeLong.

He reached up and cupped her cheek in his right hand, his fingers stroking her face and hair, his thumb wiping her tears away.

"KP," he said, choosing his words with care, "I know. He… he told me when we were fighting. I thought he was just trying to get a rise out of me, or something. And… and I'm no Angel Clare, if that's what you're worried about."

"Angel Clare?" she asked, wondering what on earth he was talking about.

"KP," Ron said flatly, glad that his allusion had distracted her. "Remember _'Tess of the d'Urbervilles'_?"

"Oh…" she said, finally remembering the story. "Wait a minute. You mean you actually _read_ one of the assigned books?"

"I figured I should try it at least once," he said defensively. "So I read that one. Hated it, never read another, but it got stuck in my head."

She actually giggled. It didn't last long, but she actually giggled through her tears.

"But anyway… KP, listen," he said gently. "I can't pretend to understand what you went through this past month. DeLong violated you in every way, but you know what?"

"What?"

His hand was still on her face, and now he used it to guide her to him.

"You," he began, placing a kiss on her forehead.

"Are still," he said, kissing her on the tip of her nose, drawing a small, but very heartfelt, smile.

"_You_," he finished, this time kissing her on the lips. She melted into him and returned the kiss, only quitting when they needed to breath.

"And nothing will ever change that, nor change the fact that _I love you_."

He gently slid his hand down her face, allowing his fingers to trace along her jaw line. She closed her eyes and leaned her head into his touch.

"Uh, guys?"

It was Wade, sticking his head into the tent. Kim and Ron suddenly turned towards him, and both flushed self-consciously.

"I hate to interrupt," Wade said, his voice distorted by embarrassment, "but Dr. Director just called. She's wondering what you guys want to do next."

Kim and Ron traded a look, and didn't even need to confer.

"Wade," Kim said, "tell her we want to go home."

* * *

Chapter XVII: Going Home

They had been given a private jet, courtesy of Global Justice, and it would take them home. Not to the city where their apartments, and Ron's restaurant, were, but to Middleton: their home, their history, and the place where their lives had begun and had taken shape. Ron had already been on the phone with Monique (who sounded not only overjoyed to discover that Kim was alive, but also like she had handled all the business stuff well), and she had agreed that it would be best to postpone the grand opening for a week, in order to let everyone recuperate.

At the recommendation of Dr. Director, Joe was released from service by the Canadian Government and went to work for Global Justice as the new Vice-Director of GJEUR.

Saying goodbye to Yori wasn't as hard as Ron had feared. Whatever had passed between them during his time at Yamanouchi had matured, but in a different direction than the one his relationship with Kim had taken. He didn't really know how to describe it, maybe like a brother-sister kind of thing, maybe not, but he did know that it was good to have a true ally, and friend, in her. He'd even invited her to the opening of the restaurant, but she had to decline: she and the remaining ninja would remain in Europe and assist Global Justice in rooting out Panther and restoring the GJEUR Directorate. Then Yori would return to Japan, and her duties at the School, but her remaining students would be free to choose their own paths.

She did promise, though, to stop by the next time she was in the States, and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before they boarded the plan. Kim had cleared her throat good-naturedly, and have even given Yori her own goodbye hug.

So it was that all goodbyes were said, and Ron, Kim, and Wade, boarded the Global Justice aircraft and headed for home.

The plane was luxurious, apparently intended for GJ VIPs. Wade was in a seat near one of the wings, alternately sleeping and watching the control surfaces. Kim and Ron sat next to each other, towards the front, as far away from the noise of the engines as possible. His left arm was wrapped around her shoulders, and she was asleep, her head leaning against his left shoulder and chest. He was still awake, yet he rested his cheek on top of her head, enjoying the feel of her hair upon his face. He didn't fear the nightmares that would come if he slept; he did fear that if he fell asleep, he would wake up to discover that this final act had been nothing but a dream.

He'd found her again. Against all odds, even when hope itself had died, he'd found her again. At times he felt as if his heart would burst.

She had whimpered a few times, and her face had scrunched up in fear, as she slept. Each time he pulled her close and whispered to her that he was still there, and then the fear would fade and she would smile peacefully. He couldn't keep the nightmares from being born, but apparently he could help her to fight them off.

That would have to be enough.

At a point halfway across the Atlantic he suddenly had another thought, and slapped himself in the head as he remembered something he'd forgotten. Fortunately, the plane had a satellite telephone system, with a handset next to him, so he lifted his head off of hers, and then he reached over and dialed a number.

"Jim?" he said when someone picked up on the other side. "Oh, sorry Tim… yeah, this is Ron. Listen, is your dad in? Could you get him for me, please? …Mr. Dr. P., it's Ron.

"I got her."

* * *

Their plane had pulled up to a public terminal, so they were mixed in with a crowd of people as they made their way to the concourse. Ron and Kim walked hand in hand, with Wade behind them and to Kim's right, and Rufus sat on Ron's shoulder. Then the crowd seemed to part, and they saw the Possible family waiting there for them.

Jim and Tim had grown up, both now taller than either of their parents (so was Wade, for that matter: he actually had a good three inches on the tweebs). Their faces were a mixture of an old sorrow and the joy from Ron's announcement. Kim's loss had hit them hard, for despite their teasing of her in their early years, they'd loved their sister dearly.

Mrs. Possible was pacing, and constantly looked at the clock and the airplane schedule. Worry lines had creased her face, but her blue eyes had regained some of their old sparkle over the past few hours. She was anxious, but she trusted Ron completely, and had faith that he would bring Kim back safely.

James Timothy Possible sat on a booth, in between his pacing wife and his excited children. Where her face was slightly creased, his looked as if he'd aged a year for every day that Kim had been away. He hadn't been overly irritable, hadn't been unkind to anyone, but he had been somewhat lethargic, and the old excited spark had left him. Management at the Space Center had wanted him to take a break and get away for a while, but he elected to stay at work, just to keep his mind busy.

He looked up as the crowd parted, and then he beheld Kim and Ron walking towards them. His eyes widened, and his mouth broke out into a great smile, the sort that had not crossed those features for many weeks; with that smile, many lines of care were wiped away, and would not return. He stood up from his seat, and began walking towards them. His wife saw him move, and she turned to see, and then she gasped, her hand flew to her mouth, and tears began to fill her eyes. Jim and Tim simply gave each other a high-five and traded cries of 'hick-a-bick-a-boo' and 'hoo-sha'.

Ron then released Kim's hand, and gave her a light shove at the small of her back, and then she was running, and jumped into her father's arms. Then the whole Possible family was there, making a right spectacle of themselves in the middle of the airport, and not really caring a whit. They were just glad to see Kim again.

Ron, Rufus, and Wade hung back, letting the reunion take care of itself. Ron just crossed his arms and looked pleased. Rufus sighed dramatically and fell against Ron's head. Wade leaned an arm on Ron's other shoulder.

"You did good, Ron. You did real good."

Ron grinned at his younger but taller friend and gave him a thumbs-up.

"And I did it _without_ loosing my pants!"

* * *

They'd spent the day at the Possible house, just relaxing and getting caught up. Even the Stoppables had stopped by and joined in the fun. Wade left for home around eight p.m., the Stoppables shortly thereafter, and then Kim retired to bed. Ron had stayed behind, and followed Kim up to her room. He averted his eyes as she changed into her bedclothes.

He stood there, leaning against a wall, as if he was standing guard, and watched her sleep. She was lying on her side, with Rufus curled up next to her face, and one of her hands resting lightly on his head. He realized that it was a far different sight from when he'd first shown her the naked mole rat.

Then he heard the ladder door creak.

"Ronald?"

"Mr. Dr. P," he whispered as Kim's father ascended into the room.

"I thought you'd gone home."

"Told my folks I wanted to stay here a little longer, they understood. Just… wanted to watch over her, y' know?"

"I know," Mr. Possible said, fully entering the room and sitting in a chair next to him. "Keeping an eye out for nightmares?"

"She had some on the plane," he admitted, "but so far, she's slept well."

"How about you? You look like you haven't slept well in a while."

"It's been about a month. A few nightmares of my own, I guess. Dunno if they'll ever go away."

Mr. Possible nodded slightly.

"Given the time, Ronald... when you get tired, I'll have the couch downstairs ready for you."

"Thanks, Mr. Dr. P."

They fell silent for a while. After a few moments, Mr. Possible spoke again.

"Ronald?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry for what I said at the funeral."

"Hey, don't worry about it Mr. Dr. P," Ron replied kindly. "Neither one of us was thinking straight that day."

"Still, that doesn't excuse it. She's had no truer friend than you, and I'm sorry I said otherwise."

"Eh, you're forgiven. It's no big."

Mr. Possible nodded, and then fell quiet for a time. Both men just remained there and watched their dear lady sleep, her features highlighted by the moon's silver light, and each hoping that their presence would keep the ghosts away.

"You raise a child," Mr. Possible began, sounding introspective, "hoping that you'll be able to teach her to have the right values and priorities, and to always believe that anything is possible. Then one day you wake up, and discover that she has learned to value the right things, and you're proud and grateful of that, but that her values have begun to put her in danger. Deadly danger, now, and she's too old for you to protect like you used to; also, that's become someone else's job. And you wonder, at times, if it might have been better to teach her to be selfish and mean, instead of having raised an altruistic hero who might die young. But only at times; the rest of the day you realize that it wouldn't be right any other way."

Ron looked at him quizzically.

"Ah, Ronald," Mr. Possible said with a sigh. "I don't know if you understood what I meant by that. Well, I'm pretty sure that you don't now, but one day, when you have a child of your own, you'll understand what I mean."

Ron nodded, and then came to a decision.

"Mr. Dr. P," he whispered, "about that… there's something I need to ask you…"

As the two men talked in the moonlight, they did not notice the pleased and contented smile that appeared on Kim's face, for she was having a very wonderful dream.

* * *

Chapter XVIII: A New Day

They were due to return to the city in two days' time. The Possibles had planned a large get together with the Stoppables for the night before Kim and Ron's departure, so Ron decided to take the night before that and do something special with Kim. He asked her to put on her best dress, and to be ready by seven o'clock. She was somewhat curious as to what he had in mind, so it didn't take much convincing. By the time 6:50 rolled around she was pacing in her attic room, nervously awaiting his arrival even as she tried to figure out what to do with her hair.

Ron was fairly nervous as well, but for different reasons. What he was planning was just so off-the-wall, so Ron-ish, in fact, that he figured it would either count as the single most brilliant thing he'd ever done, or it would explode, quite spectacularly, in his face. He made a few phone calls and met little resistance to his idea. When everything was in place he changed into his best tuxedo, the black one with the red bowtie, not the frilly blue one he'd gotten from his dad, collected Rufus and a small parcel, and then left to pick up Kim. His parents wished him luck on his way out the door.

He'd also placed a small, velvet-covered box in one of his jacket pockets; he'd carried this box with him from his apartment, to Europe, and then back to Middleton. He realized just how close he'd come to loosing Kim, and knew that there was no more time, indeed no more need, to wait.

He arrived at the Possible residence at 6:55, and was greeted at the door by Mr. Possible, who gave him a conspiratorial wink as he entered the house. Mrs. Possible was trying very hard to keep her face from glowing. Jim and Tim had made themselves scare, deciding that discretion was the better part of valor, and that it was best to avoid the temptation of playing a prank on Kim and Ron. It would have been performed out of love, of course, but they that gathered that this would not have been a good time.

Ron chatted with Kim's parents for a few minutes, his heart beating nervously, and then at 6:58 Kim descended the stairs.

The sight of her took his breath away. The dress was black, with a single strap that went over her left shoulder. It looked like the old stealth suit, or at least a dress patterned after it. Her hands were covered in black gloves that came up to halfway between her elbow and shoulder; around her neck was a single strand of black satin, which suspended a red jewel upon her chest. She stood there before him, atop the stairs, resplendent in black and beautiful as as an angel. His perception, of course, was colored by his recent fears, but even so it produced an acurate picture.

Their eyes met, and Ron smiled brightly and drew himself a little bit straighter, causing Kim to flush slightly and smile back. He walked up to the stair rail, and when Kim had reached the fifth step from the bottom he offered her his right hand. She let go of the railing and placed her hand in his, letting him guide her to the bottom of the steps. They stood there for a moment, hand in hand, and then they said good-bye to her parents and left the house. Somehow, Mr. Possible gave Ron a thumbs-up without Kim seeing.

Ron had long ago traded in the scooter for a real motorcycle, but this night he was driving his dad's car. The fact of the matter was that he still didn't fully trust himself with two people on the bike, and he didn't want to take any chances. He held the passenger door open for her as Kim got in and buckled up, and then he shut it and walked around to the drivers seat.

She asked him where they were going, and he told her to be patient, that it was a surprise. He sounded nervous, as if he wasn't really sure what he was doing was a good idea or not. She decided to simply trust him, which was a mindset that came easily to her.

Then they pulled into the parking lot of the eatery, and Kim had to admit that she was, indeed, quite surprised.

"Bueno Nacho?" she asked, one eyebrow raised. Ron almost winced, but decided that there was no turning back now.

"Not just any Bueno Nacho, KP," he said with a grin, deciding to run with it. "_Our_ Bueno Nacho."

She smiled at the memories; there were times when it had seemed like their friendship had centered on that fast-food restaurant.

"Okay, I get that part, but… aren't we a bit overdressed for this? What's the sitch, Ron?"

"You'll see," he replied with a wink, and then got out of the car. First he grabbed the small parcel he'd placed in the backseat and tucked it under his left arm, and then he walked around to the passenger side of the car and opened the door for her. When she'd gotten out he offered her his right elbow, which she accepted with a smile, and slipped her arm into his.

Thusly arranged he led her into Bueno Nacho. Ned met them at the door, having somehow found a dinner jacket that matched his manager's uniform without clashing, and without being extremely gaudy. This was no small feat; of course, it was also likely that they simply didn't see the colors, as the lights had been turned down to about half their normal luminance.

"Ah, Mr. Stoppable, Ms. Possible," he announced. "Welcome to Bueno Nacho. Your booth awaits."

Ned directed them towards a booth near the windows; the same booth, in fact, that they had sat in nearly every day back in high school. It had been so long ago, and yet was so easily recalled.

They didn't sit immediately, though Ron disengaged his arm from Kim. Instead he took the parcel and set it on a nearby table, where he then unwrapped it, and produced a pair of candles and a small candelabrum. With a flourish he unfolded the cloth wrapping and spread it over the booth as a tablecloth. He placed the candelabrum in the center of the table, placed the two candles in the candelabrum itself, and then drew a lighter and attempted to light them.

He struck the flint several times, each time growing increasingly frustrated, but the lighter was quite simply out of fluid. He stared at the candles and lighter, and narrowed his eyes in utter annoyance, hoping that this would be the only thing to go wrong.

Kim stood behind him; her hand over her mouth, and she was trying very hard not let him see her laugh. She too had recognized the booth, and remembered what that place had meant to them over the years. Their trips to Bueno Nacho had been a welcome constant in their lives, a needed place of peace and rest in an otherwise hectic existence. One would rarely be found there without the other, and even in the days before they had started dating, it had quickly gained an unofficial title as 'their place'.

She was touched, really and truly, by the effort and the sentiment behind it, but he had always had a very amusing quality when he was frustrated at something, and the amusement was winning out. Her eyes regarded him with laughter, but it was mixed with affection and love.

Ron let out a loud sigh, squared his shoulders, and then tapped on his right jacket pocket. Rufus stuck his head out.

"Okay, buddy. No-go on the lighter, time for Plan B."

"Right," Rufus said, giving Ron a brief salute. He then climbed out of Ron's pocket and crawled down his leg, then scampered over to the main counter, which he then scaled to the top. When he'd reached the flat surface he called for Ned's attention.

"Diablo sauce," he squeaked, snapping his fingers. Ned gravely handed Rufus a single packet, and the naked mole rat retraced his steps, bearing the prize, until he was standing on Ron's outstretched palm, facing the unlit candles. With a grave air, and a final moment of silence to steel his nerves, Rufus ripped the sauce packet open and chugged the capsaicin-rich concoction. His face and body turned red, smoke came from his ears, and then he blew fire, a dragon-like jet of flame, and set the candles alight.

His job done, Rufus ran off of Ron's hand and towards the soda fountain, intent on cooling his mouth off.

Ron turned and looked nervously at Kim, who was no longer able to conceal her laughter. She was silent, of course, but the way her shoulders shook, and the crinkles around her eyes, were dead giveaways.

"Heh," Ron said with a nervous chuckle, "he does a pretty good impression of a flame-thrower, huh?"

She rewarded him with a smile and sparkling eyes, and Ron felt himself blush as he took her by the hand and seated her in the booth. This was no small feat, considering the design differences between a booth and a freestanding chair, but somehow he managed. He seated himself opposite her, and Ned brought them their food shortly thereafter.

"It's no _Chez Middleton_," Ron said nervously, looking down at the chimmeritos and nacos.

"Ron," Kim said, gazing at him over the candle-born fire.

"Yeah, KP?" he replied, looking her in the eyes. She smiled at him.

"It's perfect."

* * *

Rufus had put out the fire in his gullet and sat near the soda fountain, watching them, a contented smile on his face. Several of the other patrons were watching them as well; a few had been slightly put out by the differences in lighting, but they'd understood the reasoning when Kim and Ron had entered.

They conversed as they ate, their talk meandering between everything and nothing. The only pertinent content was towards the end, after they had finished eating, for there the conversation turned towards the events in Europe, which lead into what came afterwards.

"We really cut it close, didn't we?" Kim said.

"Too close," Ron replied, agreeing. "KP, when he tossed me your battle suit…"

He found himself unable to finish the statement, for he was beginning to get choked up and tears blurred his vision.

"It's not going to stop, you know," Kim said quietly. "I know we won this time, but Dr. Director called me yesterday; they're getting Europe cleaned up, but a lot of Panther faded underground, and took some of Drakken's Legacy with them. They'll start coming out of the woodwork soon, maybe even to come after us."

"That why you're wearing the stealth suit?"

"Yeah," she said, blushing. "Though it _is_ my best dress..."

"Hey, don't sweat it KP. Remember that gadget-loaded tux Joe gave me back in high school?"

"You still have that?"

"I'm wearing it," he said with a wink. "You're not the only one Dr. Director called."

"Wow, Ron," she replied. "I don't think I've ever seen you take a warning this seriously before."

He laid his hands on the table and looked down at his empty plate.

"I've never come this close to losing you before," he said quietly. She reached across the table and placed her right hand on his left, and gave it a squeeze. He responded by placing his right hand atop hers.

"Ron..."

Their eyes met, and their faces said more than any words ever could have. They had almost lost each other, and that produced in each of them the longing and desire to remain side by side, not matter what it took.

"If they come for us, then we'll stop 'em, just like we always do," Ron said confidently.

"Are you sure we can, Ron? We got lucky on this one, and I don't know if that'll hold in the future."

"KP, what did I say before we hit that warehouse?"

"That together, we can do anything," she replied with a slight smile.

"Exactly. There'll be no more talk of failure, my dear," he said, taking his right hand off hers, but still holding on with his left. "I'm worried too, KP: I almost lost you, and I don't want to ever have to feel like that again, like my world is ending and all I can do is sit and watch. But you know…

"We can't live our days worrying about what'll happen tomorrow; I mean, we don't even get a guarantee that we'll even have a tomorrow. But I know I can face whatever tomorrow, and today, throws at me…" he said, trailing off as he rose from the table. She rose with him, partly thinking he wanted to leave (even though the food was eaten, it was an odd location to end the conversation), and partly because he was still holding her hand, and they were therefore coupled together, and required to move as one.

She stepped out of the booth, but then he walked around in front of her, keeping her from leaving… and then he dropped to one knee.

Kim felt her legs go weak, and she sat down on the edge of the seat. Her eyes filled with tears, her breathing become ragged, her face took on the inscrutable look of one whose heart suddenly begins to overflow, and her free hand went to her chest as waves of emotions rushed through her.

'_So it wasn't a dream. He's actually going to…'_

Ron reached into his left pocket and removed the velvet-covered box, the smoothness of his motions belying the stark terror he felt. His heart was beating like the pacesetter in a Roman battleship of old, so much so that he was certain they could hear it on the other side of the restaurant. What-ifs, and fears of the word 'no' passed through his head, but he banished such thoughts away, took a deep breath, and raised the box towards her.

For their part, the female patrons had reacted the same as Kim, their hands going to their hearts and tears filling their eyes. The men surreptitiously traded thumbs-up and wide grins.

"… so long as you're with me," he continued from before. "I want to be by your side always, KP. Not just as a partner in saving the world, but as your husband.

"Kimberly Anne Possible," he said, opening the box to reveal a golden ring, capped by a large and bright diamond, "will you marry me?"

"_Yes..."_

* * *

The Grand Opening of Ron's new restaurant, which was itself quite aptly and simply called _'Ron's'_, was indeed the glorious opening he'd hoped for. The day had begun warm and clear, the sky a very deep shade of blue, and completely free of clouds.

The crowd itself was quite the gaggle, a mixture of the politically important and the regular citizen. Most eyes were turned towards a round table near the windows, for the President, the First Lady, the State Governor, her husband, and the heads of the FDA and Department of Health (why they were there, no one knew) were seated at that table.

This proved to be a fortuitous grouping, for the health inspector conducting the initial rating of the restaurant had spotted Rufus, and prepared to fail it on the spot.

She was overruled by no less than four special and executive orders (thus explaining to everyone exactly why the heads of the FDA and the Department of Health had been invited), which were uttered by the diners at that table in between bites of salad.

That caused a few glasses to be raised in their honor, and caused the now red-faced inspector to leave in a huff, but it was not the most memorable portion of the night, though it came in a close third. No, what the guests would remember most was the sight of the young woman who had greeted them each at the door, and had shown them to their seats. Many had, no more than a week earlier, believed her dead; and while some had heard the rumors that she had returned, few had actually believed it.

A great many of the patrons, especially the women, commented on the diamond she wore on her left hand. Actually, they all noticed it, but the men felt no real need to speak of it. Kim Possible, then, received no less than twelve squeals of delight from people she didn't know.

When the patrons were not discussing Kim and Ron's engagement, or whatever it was that they normally talked about when at dinner, their ruminations turned towards the empty table. It was larger than all the others, and set in a position of honor, quite near to a set of windows that provided a stunning view of the nearby park. Many wondered whom it was for; after all, if the President was not to sit there, then for who would?

Then the Possibles arrived, accompanied Mr. and Mrs. Stoppable, and that question was answered very quickly. Kim greeted her family with hugs and kisses. Her brothers at least had the decorum to not make cootie jokes, her father seemed somewhat wistful (but not in a bad way; he was very proud of the woman she'd become, even if she would always be his little girl), Mr. Stoppable seemed delighted to be gaining her as a daughter-in-law, and her mother and Mrs. Stoppable were _still_ unable to avoid tearing up whenever they saw the ring. Kim guided her family, both birth and soon to be, to the table, and sat them there in positions of honor.

It was noticed, once she'd returned to her post as hostess, after making sure that her family was being served, that there were sill five open places at the table.

The next to arrive was Monique. She and Kim both screamed, in a very girlish manner, and embraced.

"Girl, let me see it!" Monique said as she pulled away. Kim held her hand out and showed Monique the ring, again, and again her friend gave a little sigh and laid a fluttering hand on her chest.

"Ron!" Monique yelled towards the kitchen. Ron stuck his head out into the dinning hall, as the kitchen itself was open to the restaurant. Instead of glass it used a special force field, invented by Wade, which kept out bacteria and microbes but would allow a human to enter or exit.

The openings, of course, didn't stretch from floor to ceiling, except in a few places. At most spots they stretched from the ceiling to the top of a counter, or about mid-torso level. This allowed the patrons to watch Ron cook without having to stare at his backside, and thusly was an arrangement completely acceptable to all parties.

"Yo, Monique!" Ron yelled back.

"Man, what took you so long!" she yelled again, this time laughing and pointing at Kim's ring. She was also sporting a mock-fierce facial expression, one that Ron knew well, for its far more authentic cousin had been used on him repeatedly when they'd been partners for a science project.

Kim just rolled her eyes.

Ron laughed and muttered something about bad timing, and then went back to work. Monique harrumphed and made a disparaging remark about men, and then she and Kim went right back to chatting. The rest of the patrons smiled and shook their heads in complete amusement.

Then a handsome young black man, six foot three inches tall, looking a bit thick around the middle but beginning to shape up (as if he'd just left a sedentary lifestyle for something a bit more active), walked through the door. His hair was long, and tied back in a ponytail.

"Whoa," Monique whispered to Kim, their former conversation now utterly forgotten. Kim tried very hard to keep from laughing, managed to succeed, and decided that she was going to enjoy this. She walked up to the young man and threw her arms around his neck.

"Hey, Wade," she said loudly.

"Hey Kim," Wade said, hugging her back. "Sorry I'm late, but- oh, hey, Monique!"

Wade looked at Monique with a friendly expression. Kim turned to look as well, and noticed that her friend seemed to be in some form of mental shock.

"H-hi," she managed, weakly. Kim just looked amused, and shortly led Wade away to the table, where he sat down next to Jim and Tim, who promptly tried to drag him into some new form of mad science. Kim, still laughing and shaking her head, returned to Monique, who had not changed her posture at all.

"Monique?" Kim queried, becoming somewhat concerned.

"I was just crushing on a ten year old," Monique uttered weakly. Kim started laughing again and then took her friend by the arm.

"I forgot that you hadn't seen him for a while," Kim said, and then explained how she and Ron had convinced Wade to at least try and exercise. In true Wade fashion, of course, he had managed to build a device that would stimulate his heart, lungs, and other muscle groups without him having to move, meaning that he could get in shape just by sitting in front of his computer; thus proving himself, in a slightly discordant analogy, to be one of the few people who could, in fact, have his cake and eat it too.

"Besides," Kim said slyly, "he's not exactly ten anymore."

"I guess, but- wait a minute, what're you saying?"

"Nothing," Kim said, looking at the ceiling, "nothing at- ahh!" She cried out as several metal tentacles came from the door and grabbed her by the arms and legs, and then pulled her away from Monique. Several of the customers looked on in alarm, Monique started to call for Ron, and then Kim started laughing as the tentacles pulled her towards a young man in a wheelchair.

"Felix!" she yelled between laughs. "Put me down right now!"

Felix dropped her into his lap as he wheeled into the room, and she hugged him in greeting.

"We didn't think you were going to make it!"

"The plane out of Pasadena was actually on time, oddly enough… yo, Ron-man!" he hollered.

"'Sup, F-dawg!" Ron hollered back.

"I'm stealing your fiancée," Felix joked in reply.

"You do, " Ron threatened in reply, as he cut into the chicken, "and I'll kick your butt in Zombie Mayhem!"

The patrons laughed at that one (even Mr. Possible, though he did not look thrilled at seeing his daughter manhandled like that), much to the embarrassment of all parties involved.

* * *

It had all gone without a hitch, the customers were satisfied, and all that Ron had to do in order to end the evening was to finish the dessert course. He was busy mixing the ingredients for the cake batter when he heard the door to the kitchen open.

"… why would I want artificial legs?" he heard Felix saying. "They don't have enough room for gadgets…"

The conversation was cut off as the door shut (the force field also had the ability to block out sound, which he could control from inside the kitchen). He realized then that she was in the kitchen with him.

"You're neglecting your guests," Kim said quietly. She was wearing a black shirt and black-gray striped pants, customary clothing for the hostess of a decent restaurant. A pair of red earrings framed her face.

"I just need to get this cake done, KP," he said absently as he began to stir the ingredients, "and then I'll-"

"By 'guests'," she interrupted reprovingly, "I mean fiancée."

He stopped what he was doing and let his hands rest on the counter top. Two weeks ago, he had believed that he'd lost her forever. He turned and looked at her, just looked, taking in every detail and feature.

"Fiancée," he whispered aloud, enjoying the feel of the word in his mouth. "Have I said how much I like that concept?"

"Wait till it becomes 'wife'," Kim said with a sly grin, and Ron blushed at the thought.

"We're still waiting for you out there, Ron," she continued, tilting her head toward the door.

"I know… I'll be out just as soon as I'm done, alright?"

Kim nodded and turned to go. Before she'd reached the door she heard him call her name.

"Kim?"

She turned and looked at him quizzically, and saw him starring at the bowl, seeming to contemplate something. Then he looked up at her.

"C'mere," he said, motioning her over. She came to him, and he positioned her between himself and the counter.

"Ron…" she said questioningly, but then he took her right hand in his, and guided it to the wooden spoon he'd been using to stir the dough.

"Okay," he said quietly, "hold the spoon like that, alright?

"Now, with your left hand," he continued, this time taking her left hand and guiding it to the side of the bowl, "hold the bowl steady, but at an angle, about like so…"

He helped her to position the bowl, and kept his hand on top of hers. She leaned against him, and they both smiled as Ron guided the motions of her right hand, showing her how to stir the dough. When she had the rhythm he let go of her hands, first her left and then her right, and wrapped his arms around her waist, letting her wield the wooden spoon on her own.

Then Ron Stoppable proceeded to teach Kim Possible how to bake a cake.

End Part 6

"The Fallen", a 'Kim Possible' fanfic by WesUAH, which herein concludes.

SDG

* * *

Author's Notes

"Kim Possible" is a copyright of the Disney Corporation. All characters, aside from the Panther Group and associated characters, come from the show and are also a copyright of Disney.

The Author wishes to thank:

Willk1989, Captainkodak1, Jasminevr, Sand Lord, Godhand's Number, Gargoyle-sama, KPR, Ron-sama, Aimtbj, JMAN2.0, Mobius97, Salimoo, Darkcloud1, Zaratan, Anghammarad, BrattyBrina, Tattooed Angel Wings, Jefepato, and Hyper Kitty, for the reviews, encouragement, and support. Y'all rock.

The denizens of the RonStoppable dot net forums, just for being an interesting enough bunch to draw me into KP fandom.

Everyone who either put this story or my pen name on their favorites list. Believe me, my ego greatly appreciates it :).

All who read this tale, from the beginning on to here; I hope y'all enjoyed it.

Finally, my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. I hope this was worthy of You, and the gifts You've given me.


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